Dragon Age: The Apocalyptian Saga
by Lord Winterman
Summary: As Thedas crumbles from a multitude of conflicts, an ancient threat returns to the world for what could very well be the last battles of existence. Dragon Age: The Apocalyptian Saga is a fan-fic diverging after the end of DAII detailing a different path from the Inquisition continuity. Currently on the third installment of the Saga.
1. The End Begins

" _Since the beginning of time, history has been full of things beyond our comprehension. So very often, we used parables and legends to explain what we could not understand, and to hide that which we would rather forget. We spend so much time, living in our illusions, believing our own lies, that we are unprepared for when reality knocks on our door."_

\- Sathera

Light.

How long had it been since he had even dreamed of such a thing. Ages? Eons? Such trivial things were not supposed to exist in the realm of nothingness. Yet time still marched on, coursing in a manner beyond reality, wearing against his consciousness to intimately remind of him of every passing moment.

And there it hung, a sliver of existence lost in the seas of nothingness. It was but a simple pinpoint floating in the distance, but the infinite void of black made such a simple thing a blinding beacon. A hole in the physical world had been opened.

Reaching out, he called upon his reserve of energy. Even weakened, gathering energy in the void was still possible, even if only in just miniscule amounts, and he had been gathering for a long time.

Grasping the thread of light, he pulled himself through.

* * *

The 9th of Umbralis, 9:37 Dragon

Elione watched as her commander stood at the overlook of their outpost, eyes searching the valley for any intruders. The winds tugged at his green-grey cloak.

Plenty of hunter teams had stayed at the lookout over the years, but Marscius was as constant as the mountains themselves. No one remembered the time he had first taken watch, but no one would be surprised if he had a name for every stone on the mountain and in the valley below.

Clouds billowed and swelled as the tumbled across the sky. A stormy season for the Free Marches.

 _No,_ Elione thought. _This is no ordinary storm._

Sitting across from her, Gildart, the team's mage, was practically buzzing with excitement. A wind was blowing across the Fade and through the Veil, heralding a major shift in the realm of Spirits.

The senior hunter's pointed ears twitched. "Could it...?" He whispered to himself.

Gildart grinned madly, tapping his feet against the stone floor. Everyone else could feel a sense of what he was experiencing. The storm swirled around overhead, lightning flashing across the skies in wild, constant display. Thunder rumbled in the heavens and the earth quivered beneath their feet.

As quickly as it had come, the storm quieted down, easing over the landscape.

"It is time." Marscius declared.

Pulling out a mirror, the senior hunter dropped it on the ground.

"Take us home." he ordered. His stony expression could not hide his elation.

The rest circled around Glidart as he gathered the necessary energies to complete his task. Sweat trickled from his forehead in spite of the cooled mountain air. With an arcane pulse, the mirror glowed at his touch.

Nodding to his compatriots, one by one, they stepped into the mirror. Glancing back at the outpost that had long been his home, Marscius followed. With one last pulse, Gildart brought up the rear, leaving the mirror to disintegrate behind him.

* * *

Rain fell gently outside the Circle of Cumberland, a damp winter for Nevarra. In the dorms, the mages milled quietly in a darkened room,

Mariannae had packed her meager possessions into a bag, glancing over her shoulder nervously as she sat on her bed, waiting for the signal with her peers. Even with the distractions their jail keepers had been dealing with, she still expected them to come bursting through the doors at any moment.

The wait was agonizing, but they only had one chance at pulling off an escape. Slinging her bag across her back, she donned a cloak and wrapped her scarf around her neck. She could hardly believe how things were progressing, but there was no doubting her master's words.

After the incident at Kirkwall, all of Thedas in an uproar, none more so than the Templar Order. The Chantry's grip on the Circles grew tighter with every passing day, threatening to strangle them all. There had been talks, of course. The Chantry proper had seen to that, but with the carnage wrought by Mage terrorists, the fanatics were baying for blood.

"We leave tonight." Those words were whispered to her in passing. Long enough a sentence to convey a message, short enough that an idle Templar would not notice. Mere caution would not be enough with their wardens on edge as they were.

Some of the younger mages were gathered around her feet, children whose magical talent had been recently discovered.

What felt like a pulse reverberated through the building. Those that she could see in the dark stood up straight, eyeing the corners of the room.

Then shouts erupted downstairs.

"It's time." Lora said. The older enchanter took her staff in hand and walked to the door. Mariannae gathered the children assigned to her and followed, falling in with the rest. The door opened with a slight creak.

The Templars had already thinned out their patrols to deal with the uprising in other parts of the Circle. The vaulted ceiling carried the sounds of battle that led them to the fighting. But there were still some that remain.

One turned to them, drawing his sword and raising his shield, ready to put down any resistance. "Return to your quar-!"

He was cut off by a sword to the back. Mariannae sighed in relief. Few in number as they were, the mages of Thedas still had sympathizers, those who were not eager to condemn every mage of every Circle for what had happened in Kirkwall. The Templar named Ciran nodded to their group and scampered ahead to scout for more of his brethren.

The other groups were doing their job well in keeping the Templars from noticing their escape, though Mariannae wondered many were perishing to give them that time. She shook her head. _This is what war is like. We all knew this would happen._

Escape was paramount. It would be up to them to keep the cause alive.

* * *

Braden rolled himself out of bed, grateful that none of the servants were present to see a Magister act in such an unsightly fashion. His black hair was a mess and when looked at the mirror, he could see an ample amount of crust built up around his brown eyes.

He had a vague recollection of a meeting he was supposed to attend today.

A knock at the door drew him from his contemplations. "Master?" a skittish voice called from behind the door. Braden recognized the voice as belonging to Meline.

"What is it?" he answered.

"You told me to wake you before-"

"So I did." Braden interrupted with a sudden surge of energy, throwing on a robe. When he opened his bedroom door, the young girl slammed against the wall and bowed at her master's passing. He did not understand why she acted like that, save for that her previous master was somewhat abusive. Rubbing his eyes, he turned to the girl. "Did anyone send for me yet?"

Meline vigorously shook her head.

"Where is Dalos?"

"Present as ever, my lord." Dalos replied, striding down the hall.

Braden turned to face his attendant. "Excellent! Meline, you may leave."

The girl bowed and scampered off.

Once they were alone, Braden went to business. "Any news or missives?"

"Just one." He replied, pulling a piece of paper from the inside of his clothes. "It was hand delivered last night. I have no idea how it made it into my quarters."

The magister snatched the paper from Dalos' hand.

"My lord, I feel it my duty to-." He hushed when Braden raised a hand. "Of course, my lord."

"This is a dangerous game I'm playing, but one that I know quite well. Now let me see what this contact has to say."

While reading through the letter, the sensation of a wave passed over him. It felt like he was reinvigorated by it, the weariness of the political games of Tevinter dissipating. He could not help but grin. "It's time."

Flemeth approached one of her old habitats. The structure had long since been weathered down to a mound of trash, but it was not the structure itself that interested her.

Skirting along the edge of the clearing, she found a certain rock amidst the trees that had served as a marker for this site, and remarkably had not been knocked over or carried away in the intervening years. A simple spell had made sure of that.

She pressed her hand against the rock and the ground surrounding the tree sank into a stair case that led to the ground below. The cavern contained a number of items that she had preserved of the years, but she had come for one in particular. The sarcophagus at end of the chamber.

As she walked towards it, she felt a pulse hit her. A sense of panic washed over her, which she quickly shoved aside as she went about her task.

Time was already running out.

* * *

The 11th of Verimensis, 9:38 Dragon

"Are you sure that stuff was still good, Gladel?"

"Are ya sure you're not a moron, Moreck? We've enough problems with the last time the captain caught us drunk. Dun let him do it again."

"But my tummy feels odd."

"Quit your gripin' and keep yer eyes open. We're on patrol, remember?"

"Who's gonna be out here with it so cold?"

"Who knows? Just shut yer trap."

Late night patrols were bad any day, but it was far worse in the winter. The cold winds swept down the mountain and blew through the city relentlessly. Gladel had often wondered what it was like for those in the mountains. "Bet they have plenty of warm furs and fires to keep them warm." He thought. "And not having to do patrol duty at night for a whole week."

His companion snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Look over there."

The light caught the silhouette enough to show his pointed ears. Gladel looked at his partner

"Let's have us some fun."

The two approached the elf, who did not seem to notice.

"Oy! What're y'doing out at night, knife ear?" Moreck called out.

"Just enjoying the city at night." The elf replied, not even turning to face them.

"Really?" Gladel said with amusement as both guards drew their swords and approached the elf. "Y'shoulda stayed 'n the Alienage."

Moreck swung first. As his sword moved through the air, the elf did not move, waiting until the last possible moment before raising his gauntleted hand to catch the blade. With his other hand he knocked his shield away. With his challenger's defense broken, the elf thrust his flattened hand into the guard's abdomen, with flickers of light glistening off the blood as it exited through the man's back. After a moment that felt like an eternity, the elf turned his attention towards Gladel.

Unlike Moreck, Gladel had no shield, and the elf effortlessly ducked under his desperate swing and lunged at him with an outstretched arm. As the gauntleted hand grasped his face, a brilliant flash of light burned his eyes before he screamed out his last breath, cut short as the light burned through his head.

The elf casually let the body drop to the frosted ground. "That makes twelve."


	2. Requiem: Chapter One

"How's about another pint?" the Bartender offered.

"No, I have had enough." Merana politely declined. She honestly wanted to drink more, but the money from her previous job had to be spent on other things.

The tavern was at a low din with conversation; rumors of growing tensions between various Orlesian nobles, others about Templars and mages clashing in the next village, or another bandit attack down the road. Most of them were just rumors, but sometimes there was some news that came with it.

Discreetly, she looked around and at the door, hoping that no one was going to burst through. Hopefully, it was just the paranoia of being a fugitive that was getting to her. Every noise seemed to make her heartbeat run wild since she had left Ghislain. She had paid for a room for another night, but she probably was not going to sleep well with the tremors she had been suffering as of late.

Joarre was a small town that was the home of many hunters, miners, and woodsmen. Situated near the base of the Hunterhorn Mountains, the city was more rough-and-tumble than other Orlesian cities. There was no Alienage either. The settlement was too small for it. Not that the locals cared much for it in the first place.

"Folks around here care more about whether or not you can do something for them than who or what you are." The old man had said when she first arrived in town.

The population seemed to reflect that. She had seen humans, elves, dwarfs, and even the occasional Vashoth mingling together in the town's market, brushing shoulders as they passed each other. Everyone seemed to mind their own business. That was probably the only reason she had stayed as long as she had.

Even though her shoulder length red hair covered the tips of her ears, it did not take a genius to figure out that she was an elf, and no one seemed to mind her wandering around or mingling with the locals. It was better than where she had come from.

The morning brought little more than sweeping winds coming down from the mountain and sunlight reflecting off of a thin layer of snow that had come in the night. When she finally had the courage to leave her bed, she wrapped her cloak tightly around herself and got her blood flowing before she tried putting on her armor.

It was nothing particularly special, but it bore a small number of scratches where it had saved her life. Normally she would have worn a helmet, but the cold hurt her ears, so she opted for warmth and avoiding frostbite over covering her entire body with armor. It also allowed her to look over her shoulder more easily and allowed her to blend in better. Once she had eaten breakfast, she walked out into the street

Her boots cracked the frozen puddles. By midday they would be partially melted, and when night came again, it would be frozen solid once more. The town was remarkably busy for the weather it routinely experienced. Hopefully she would be able to find work before her money ran out.

In the past, she could have spent weeks scrounging and foraging before a job came up, but far too often had a call gone out that she was on the run again, hungry and angry. Regardless of the political conditions, she doubted she would be ignored if someone who knew her were to happen upon her.

A visit to the local Chantry Board yielded no results. Since the locals were either entirely self-sufficient or well-attuned to the needs of their neighbors, Merana was hardly surprised that there was not even a Chanter standing next to it.

As she turned to check the barracks for possible work, the doors of the Chantry swung open with a human storming out. Before Merana could put the unfolding events behind, the man spotted her walking away from the Chantry Board and approached her.

"You!" He called out. "Are you a skilled fighter?"

Merana cringed. "What business is that of yours?" she asked, not even stopping or looking the man in the eye.

"I'm looking to hire someone to accompany me on an urgent matter."

Her curiosity now piqued, she stopped and looked at the man. Judging by his attire and the equipment he had on himself, he was most likely a lumberjack. She could not recall ever seeing him in town before, so he likely lived further up in the mountains.

The man seemed to sense her thoughts and headed her off. "I know it doesn't look like it, but I can pay."

"How could someone like have enough money to make it worth my while?" Merana scoffed.

"If you want to know the specifics, we can discuss the matter in a more private setting." The man said, scratching at his unkempt facial hair. "I'm not necessarily comfortable speaking about it in public."

"Very well." Merana replied after a moment's pause. "I will hear you out on your proposition, but I make no guarantees as to whether or not I will accept."

In the time spent waiting, the man introduced himself as Darran Trace and said nothing else until their drinks arrived. The beverage was a pleasantly warm with a slightly bitter aftertaste that Merana had not gotten around to asking about its contents. Taking sips from her mug, Merana continued to look over her potential employer while he stared into his cup, as if it held the answers to life's mysteries.

When it seemed that he had gotten lost in thought, Merana was tempted to leave when he began to speak.

"I'm sorry," He began. "But I had talked with people all over town, with little more than a moment of sympathy before turning walking away. I thought I was going to have to go to Andoral's Reach before I found someone who would even consider taking up the job."

"So the Chantry was your last stop before you went to the next town?" Merana replied.

"It was desperation that sent me there, even though I knew there wouldn't be any Templars with all of the mages in an uproar."

"So what are you hiring me for?"

Darran rubbed his eyes, slightly crusted from drowsiness. "A few weeks ago, I went on a logging trip. When I came home, I found my home reduced to a pile of ashes with my children butchered and dragged out in front." The man paused to blink back tears before continuing. "I know there is no way for me to bring them back, but it's my wife that I concerned about."

"Why is that?"

"If she were dead, I would have found a corpse, and there is no reason I can think of for carrying off a dead woman."

"How do you even know where they went?"

"A couple of days ago, I heard from some of friends who have been traveling around. They said that someone has been wiping out alienages across northern Orlais, usually preceded by a small string of murders the week before. It's possible that they're connected."

"That is quite the leap in logic."

"Hang on, they didn't put this together; I did. What they had said was that someone was attacking alienages and that someone was going around murdering people."

"That still does not say how you know where they are."

"They had just come from Perendale. The last they heard, bodies had been turning up two days before they left."

"And you think you would be able to get there in time to catch them? Even with horses and during the warmer seasons it would be difficult to get there within several days."

"To be honest, I would grateful if I could find a trail or some clue among the rubble. But if we can catch them, so much the better."

"Okay, that answers most of that, but why would they target your family?"

"My wife is an elf." He answered flatly. "Beyond that, I'm hoping I'll find out."

"And you need another person for that?"

"The extra swords are mostly because of all of the fighting going on. I'd much rather be safe than dead."

Merana sighed. While she would much rather have some evidence to back these theories, from the discussion, he had put a considerable amount of thought into this, and all the man was asking was for her to provide security. If she was not so short on money, she would have probably never decided to meet with him. Maybe it was a good time to skip town. She had been there long enough for them to have caught up.

"Fine, I will take the job." Merana said. "But I am going to have to grab some things before we go."

As she stood up to leave, the familiar sound of a bag of coins hitting the table caught her attention.

"Your initial payment," Darran said, shoving the purse closer to her. "In good faith."

Nodding her acceptance and picking the bag from the table, Merana returned to her room. Curious, she opened the bag, sifting through the contents with her finger. She let out a low whistle.

"I just have to escort him." She said to herself. "Just get him to wherever he wants to go."

In the corner of her eye, she saw someone standing next to the window. Dropping the bag, her hand flew to the hilt of her sword as she turned to face the intruder, but it was gone.

Merana shook her head, scratching her nose with her thumb. "Not again."

After they had gathered their belongings and acquired some horses, they headed down the east road in silence. The wind had tapered off before the evening, making the journey more bearable, but with most of the day lost in preparing for the road, they had to make camp for the night before they were able to make much headway.

Darran's skills as a lumberjack proved to be useful and camp was expertly set up before the sun had disappeared over the horizon despite the frosty conditions. Merana took first watch, keeping a watchful eye on her employer and routinely glancing around the woods, bracing for an attack that never came.

When Darran woke to take up the watch, he took a seat next to the fire and thanked the Maker that they were still in an isolated part of the country, as Merana's snoring would have likely alerted to their location anyone who would do them harm.


	3. Requiem: Chapter Two

Merana's vision was blurry, but she could make out the sword sticking out of someone's back, the blood mixing with the rainwater as it trickled to the ground.

"I'm sorry it had to end this way." A familiar voice said.

Looking to at the person embracing her, she could see a faint smile through the damp clumps of hair.

"Thank you." The voice whispered.

Merana eyes snapped open from her dream. Reaching for her dagger, she stopped short when she remembered her surroundings.

The morning had brought more cold weather and a fresh layer of frost. Darran had a fire going with breakfast sizzling on a pan that he had brought. His eyes alternated between the food and the road, barely visible beyond the trees.

"You're rather loud when you're sleeping." he said. "I'd wager it makes up for your silence when you're awake."

"You are not paying me for idle conversation." she retorted.

"True enough." he replied absently. "At any rate, did you sleep well?"

"As far as you are concerned, yes." Merana shivered. "Are you part bear? How can you stand this weather?"

"I'm used to sleeping on the road." The sound of stirring wildlife caught his attention. "You'd best get moving. We have a long road ahead of us.

After both of them had warmed up, they broke camp and resumed their journey. The wind had picked up again, cutting into through their clothes.

The roads were devoid of any other travelers, and the only signs of life were the occasional wild animal they spooked that would take off running.

Upon coming to a clearing, they saw a sign that read 'Merdicole' referring to the village that rested on the hill and spread around the surrounding area. Their arrival was met with little more than confused glances, as the village seemed to be in disarray, with people wandering around with bewildered looks on their faces.

One man was standing at a high point, addressing the few who bothered to hear him out. If Merana's guess was good, the man was probably a minor noble in charge of the village and only barely passed as one, if only because of the line of poorly equipped guards protecting him from a crowd that was more confused, and not remotely interested in wasting their time and energy on the small man rambling about the "keeping peace".  
His shoulders were hunched over, making his short stature all the more significant when he stepped down from his perch.

"You there, travelers." The little lord called as his meager crowd dispersed. "My name is Baron Claude Descoteaux, my land has suffered a crisis, and I find myself in need of assistance."

"Really," Merana said with mock concern. "What crisis are you facing?"

Ignoring the sarcasm, the tiny man pressed forward with his line of thought. "It appears most of my labor force has up and left. Now the entire city is in chaos."

"Your entire labor force?" Darren questioned.

"Yes, the blasted knife-ears failed to show up for their assigned duties. I sent some guards into their part of town, and everyone was gone without a trace."

Merana cringed at the idiocy of the baron, but went on pressing him for information.

"This place is smaller than Jorrae, how does it have an alienage?"

"It doesn't, but most of them tended to keep to themselves in another part of town."

"Were they 'persuaded' to do so?"

"No, they just seemed to prefer it that way." Descoteaux answered, either oblivious to the thinly veiled accusation, or was intelligent enough not to become confrontational with well-armed mercenaries, but his previous comments made the second unlikely.

"But your men found nothing regarding the disappearance?"

"No, it is if they all simply ran off into the night."

They were not getting anywhere with the baron, but they at least had a possible lead, if they could spare the time.

"I'm sorry," Merana said with her most diplomatic tone, trying to get rid of the baron before either of them decided to kill him. "But we have matters that require us elsewhere."

"Bah!" Descoteaux shouted. "Why did you bother asking me so many questions if you were not going to help?"

With that, he and his entourage of guards marched back into the directions of what was presumed to be his estate.

"You shouldn't bother with that lead." A voice said from behind. "I've already checked the slums."

Merana and Darran turned to the direction of the voice. A tall, dark-haired man stood on top of the roof, wearing dark colored clothing and a tattered, long black coat that touched his ankles, and rested his right hand on the hilt of his sword. Sliding off the roof, he made a polite bow and introduced himself. "My name is Hector."

"I'm Darran, and this is Merana."

"You say you checked the slums, what did you find?" Merana asked, dispensing with pleasantries.

"Apart from the fact that they all simply disappeared overnight, some of them seemed to have left in the middle of a meal, perhaps the late hours of the evening, and there were scattered signs of a resistance, but what was most curious was the line that encircles the entire district."

"Meaning that at least one mage is involved."

"Considering how widespread this is, I would presume there to be more."

"How many more?"

"Enough to need another sword." Hector said matter-of-factly. "You're headed to Perendale as well, are you not?"

"Why do you want to know?" Merana challenged.

"I would like to join you on the venture."

"You want to come with us? Just like that?"

"I suppose you could say I am on something of an adventure, and Perendale is where the adventure is calling me to."

"I may not be able to adequately pay for another mercenary." Darran said, scratching his head.

"Oh, I'm not looking to be hired. I offer my services free of charge."

"Really?" Merana asked, obscuring her suspicions while Darran weighed his options, finally relenting to the man's request after some internal debate and extending his hand to their new companion. "Welcome aboard."

"Much obliged." Hector replied, returning the handshake, his face maintaining his expression like a mask.

"Well, unless you have some business to attend to, let's get a move on."

Merana held her tongue, despite her misgivings about the decision. She had not intended to get as involved in her employer's investigation, but her better nature had won out over pragmatic vigilance. Now they were picking up a random passerby, making what had been a mild passing paranoia into a clanging warning bell in her skull.

It would likely be better to simply cut her loses and find some other town to hole up in if she had enough money to do so, but if she suddenly disappeared, it would raise more questions about her than she dared to risk.

Wiping most everything about the dung-hole of a town from their memories as it disappeared into the distance, the trio sped down the road.

By early the following afternoon, they had made great progress, but came to a halt when they saw a roadblock in the distance, with a wagon being held up by some Orlesian soldiers who were manning it.

"What business do you have on the road, dwarf?" the Captain interrogated as his men circled the cart menacingly.

"I already told you. I have business to conduct in the next town." The dwarf answered politely. "Is there a problem?"

"We are keeping an eye out for dissidents and traitors."

"Well, unless you're planning on buying something, I'd like it if your men to get their paws off of my wares."

The soldiers ignored her and continued to prod the wagon, looking for anything of value.  
In a blur of motion, the dwarf leveled a crossbow at the nearest soldier. "Buzz off!" She warned menacingly.

The soldiers stepped back, but after the initial shock wore off, they circled around the wagon with some of them drawing their weapons.

The dwarf seemed apprehensive, knowing that the one bolt would only dissuade them as long as none of them were willing to risk death to take her out.

"That simply won't do." Hector said ominously.

"What do you intend?"

"Unless we wish to try finding another route or cutting across the terrain, it would seem prudent to dispose of this hindrance."

Before anyone could make a move, Hector approached the roadblock, hopping off his horse when he got close enough.

"I would advise against that course of action." Hector warned, smirking as he gripped the hilt of his sword.

"And what are you going to do about it?" one of the Soldiers snapped.

"Well, my sword is still clean at this point," Hector answered, letting out a small chuckle "So I think it is less a matter of what I'm going to do about this and more of what you're going to do about it."

"You dare threaten an Orlesian soldier?" The captain shouted, lashing out with his sword, but found it flying from his hand and himself crashing to the ground as Hector slashed the tendon in his right arm and the back of his kneecap.

The captain writhed in the dirt, his arm flopping aimlessly while Hector stood over him, planting his boot on his back as addressed the man's underlings. "He's bleeding, but if you get him to healer quickly enough, he might actually be able to walk again." Said Hector over the screams of the bleeding officer.

"Die!" one of the soldiers screamed as he and another soldier ran at the swordsman. With a quick series of slashes, the two soldiers found themselves laying next to their commanding officer.

"Any other takers?" Hector challenged, resting his sword on his shoulder.

Getting the hint, the soldiers picked up the wounded colleagues.

As the soldiers cleared out, Hector swung his sword to the ground, flicking off any excess blood from the long, narrow blade and wiping off the remainder with a cloth before sheathing it again. Merana and Darran trotted up, leading Hector's horse to him.

"Sorry you had to jump in like that." The dwarf apologized. "The soldiers have been gettin' rather uppity lately."

"It was no trouble." Hector replied.

The dwarf smiled and kicked the underside of the wagon. "You can come out now."

A human with age-greyed hair emerged from the covering, blinking in the sunlight.

"Why was he in there?" Darran asked.

"You don't show your opponents all of your cards, especially your aces. So sometimes he hangs in the back in case we run into…undesirable company."

"Does it always work?"

"It's gotten us some extra equipment, if that's what you're asking."

When her comment was met with an awkward silence, the dwarf went onto the next topic.

"The name's Lenli." The dwarf said, enthusiastically jabbing her thumb into her chest. "My friend over there is Garbune."

"Hello." The older man said, waving at the trio and slinking back into the cart.

"Where are you going?" Darran asked.

"Like we told that soldier, we have some business to conduct." Lenli answered. "Perendale is our next planned stop."

"That's where we are headed, as well."

"Maybe we can travel together. I doubt that those soldiers will be the only ones of their type."

Deciding to intervene, Merana pulled Darran aside. "We can't afford any more delays, and a cart would only slow us down."

"Well, you know what they say: the more the merrier."

"Yes, but you are on a mission that relies on our utmost haste, and you are paying me to get you there."

Darran bit his lip and turned to Lenli.

"I'm sorry," He said politely. "but we will have to decline your offer."

"Hey, no sweat." Lenli answered, cheerily. "We appreciate the help, but if you need to get out of here in a hurry, don't let us slow you down."

Leaving the wagon trailing behind in the dust, the rest of the day's journey was rather uneventful. As night fell, the moon bathed the landscape with its light from the cloudless sky providing ample illumination as they pressed to Andoral's Reach.

The hill overlooking the city provided a good vantage point, and with the moon shining down, they could see the sinkhole where the alienage had been as plainly as day.

"They must have come here first." said Merana.

"Or Perendale's alienage is already gone." Hector suggested.

Darran took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. "Okay, we'll stay here the night." He said. "We'll check what's left of the alienage in the morning before we leave."

The city had a disconcertingly quiet air hanging about it. No one was drinking or partying in the streets and even the guards seemed focused and on edge as they kept vigilant to a threat they knew nothing about.

They found an inn close to what was left of the alienage and paid for the night. In the bar, there were workers gathered around every table, barely leaving any room for the trio to sit down at the bar.

Ordering their drinks, Merana began looking around nervously. Too many people. Too many unknowns.

Her fit of paranoia was disrupted by Darran asking one of the worker who looked to be in charge; a grizzled man with some light scars on his left cheek.

"What can you tell me about the alienage?" Darran asked.

"Not much really." The man answered. "A few of nights ago it was really quiet, then the next moment we feel the ground shaking. By the time anyone knew what was happing, the alienage had been destroyed."

"Was there anyone who saw it happen?"

"No, not that we found anyways."

"Did you find any survivors?"

"No, which is the most unsettling thing; there hardly any corpses to be found."

"What do you mean by 'hardly'?" Merana asked.

"Exactly that." The man said. "We scoured the area for a couple of days, but the only people we found were those who had been near the alienage when it had fallen and some elf-bloods, and there weren't many of those either."

"Very peculiar." Darran said to himself.

"Now if you'll excuse me," the man said, standing up to quell the growing rowdiness from the other workers. "I have some other matters to attend to."

After the bar had emptied somewhat, they migrated to a table and discussed their findings.

"I guess that confirms most of your theory, Darran." Merana said.

"Yeah, but the how and why are what I still can't figure out." He replied.

"They would not to get them out without being noticed, and teleportation is something impossible even for magic."

"Unless they used an Eluvian." Hector added.

All eyes turned to Hector.

"It's an elvish thing from back before the fall of Arlathan. It's a mirror that allowed for communication and travel across great distances." Hector explained. "Maybe someone found a way to get them working again."

"Should we be looking at the elves then?" Darran asked.

"I highly doubt that all of the city elves had a moment of realization and collectively decided to leave." Merana mused. "No, they had to have had outside influence."

"The Dalish, perhaps?"

"Unless something's changed, most Dalish elves aren't exactly rushing to save their city-dwelling cousins." said Hector.

"Another likely culprit would be Tevinter." Merana suggested. "Who else would need this many living people to anything?"

"I doubt Tevinter slavers are behind this one." Darran said as he rubbed his fingers against his temples. "But the big question is do you think the larger cities are going to be next?"

"Well, we're not going to find out by talking about it." Hector said, standing from his seat. "We need more information that involves us digging through the rubble, or finding someone who was there. "So unless someone has a solid theory, I suggest we hit the hay and rise early tomorrow."

While Hector went up the stairs to his room, Merana and Darran lingered at the table.

"I know it might be a stretch, but what if the Dalish are involved?" Darran asked.

She furrowed her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"The man said they only found elf-bloods in the alienage proper. I'm not coming up with any other organizations that would be that picky who aren't elven, and the Dalish are the only ones who could have a reason for choosing now to make a move."

"Why do you say that?"

"Has there ever been another time when all of Thedas was this distracted when there wasn't a Blight? Orlais is on the brink of civil war, there are rumors that Tevinter is having similar issues, and to top it all off, the mages and Templars are universally getting at each other's throats, and Maker knows what all else is happening. No one seems to be paying these attacks serious attention, and there wasn't any mention of anything like this happening before."

"Tevinter slavers pick at elven communities all of the time-"

"But they've never taken a whole alienage," Darran interrupted. "Nor have they ever passed up anybody who was able bodied, and they most certainly don't go through these lengths to cover their tracks."

"You seem rather sure on the matter."

Darran sighed and leaned back into his chair. "Like Hector said, we have nothing but theories with nothing solid to back them up. Hopefully the alienage ruins will provide us some clues."

Merana wanted to ask him more questions, but decided to back off and went off to bed. The light from the windows made falling asleep difficult, leaving her to mull over her thoughts on the conversation.

Her train of thought was interrupted by a young elf girl standing in the corner. Recognizing it as a hallucination, she slapped her palm against her face and shook her head, wrapping the blankets around herself tighter. "I am becoming too invested in this mission aren't I, sis?"


	4. Requiem: Chapter Three

Woken by a knock at the door, Merana sat up in bed and reached for her sword. She inwardly cursed and threw the covers aside. The relatively warmer weather made getting out of bed much easier. Or, she wondered, she was faring better because she was in an actual bed.

"Morning, Merana," Darran called from the other side of the door. "It's going to be daylight soon, and we still need to check the alienage here before we leave."

"Very well," she replied. "I will be out shortly."

Shaking herself awake, she went about putting on her armor. As she descended the stairs, she found the others finishing up their breakfast. Not wanting to hold the others back, Merana shoveled her food down with ridiculous speed.

Hector emerged into the dining room, his black coat grey from a layer of dust.

"You seem disappointed." Darran commented.

"I thought there would be more that we could do." Hector answered, shaking himself from of his thoughts.

"Don't let you hopes falter yet. I had a chat with the foreman. According to him, there was still plenty of rubble to dig through."

"I do not think that is what he is after." Merana muttered, covering her mouth so as not to spit out her food.

Hector squinted at her, squeezing his food in his mouth to one side as if to say something, but thought better of it and went on chewing.

After breakfast, they joined the group of people scouring the sinkhole. Around midday, most of the workers broke for lunch while Merana, Darran, and Hector continued digging.

Darran surveyed the ruins with dissatisfaction. "I guess we'll start over there." he said, pointing towards the center of the crater

"What did you mean by what you said earlier?" Hector asked once Darran had moved off a little ways away from them.

"What are you referring to?" Merana asked.

"The 'I do not think that is what he is after'."

"I meant that you are not here for the purest of motives."

"Just get to the point."

Merana dropped a wooden beam and stared at the swordsman.

"It's just like with the soldiers; you are just looking for a fight. You don't care about these people."

"Well, you're free to think that."

"Am I wrong?"

"No, you're only half right. But that might as well be the same thing in this case as far as you're concerned. And it's not like you're a perfect person either, taking this job for money."

"Everyone needs money."

"Wrong. Everyone needs pay."

"Is that not the same thing?"

"Not necessarily."

"Even so, you joined this quest with no promise of reward."

"Trust me, I am getting a reward out of this. As for you, I imagine you could've found work in plenty of other places besides some backwater village. What are you hiding from?"

Staring the man down, Merana considered reaching for her sword and disposing of him. Before she could think better of it, a faint cough interrupted their conversation. The efforts in digging were redoubled as they tried to figure where the sound had come from.

"Is anyone there?" a weak voice said, echoing in what was likely a part of a building that had stayed intact during the collapse.

"Yes, we'll get you out in a moment." Darran called out.

When they had dug close enough, Merana nearly fell through the wall they were on top of.

Standing in the sunlight was an elven girl with long blonde hair, putting her hand in front of her face to shield her eyes. Her face and clothes were covered in dust and mud, and there were some noticeable scratches on her.

"I will go down to retrieve her." Merana said.

"You're sure?" Hector asked.

"Yes."

Hector exhaled sharply. "I'll get some rope. Can you wait until then?"

"I am giving you ten minutes before I jump down there."

"Going."

As Hector scampered off, the girl gasped. "Don't leave." She pleaded.

"I am still here. My companion is getting some help."

A motion that Merana could only assume was a nod or a shiver.

"What is your name?"

"Aevra."

"I am Merana."

Before long, Hector ran up with a rope and tied it to the sturdiest object he could find. Merana affixed the rope to herself and eased herself down into the cavity. The girl was very compliant and responded to Merana's orders. After the girl had been cleared of any serious injuries, she was carried back up.

When they had brought her back to the surface, the girl fell asleep in Merana's arms like a small child, instead of the fourteen-year-old she likely was.  
"What do we do with her?" Hector asked.

"If she was a witness to whatever happened," a gravelly voice said from behind. "I would recommend getting her somewhere safe and out of the way before the culprits come back to tie up the loose ends."

Facing the sound of the voice, the group turned back to see Lenli and Garbune standing on the hill above them.

"'Ello." The dwarf greeted cheerily.

-¤-

"I kind of figured we would run into each other again." Lenli said, stoking the campfire.

"Are you sure it was a good idea to just take the girl?" Darran asked. "If she knows something, we could convince them to help us, right?"

"I doubt it." said Merana. "They did not seem to have the necessary resources to chase an enemy such as this, and it will take time for the information to get to the right people. In the time it would take to do that, whoever is doing this could easily move on to another settlement, or come after her."

"Don't worry; Garbune is a skilled healer." said Lenli.

"I was surprised you had a mage working with you." Darran commented. "But I guess that explains why you put him in the wagon so often"

"Actually, he's been an apostate for several years now, even before the Kirkwall Rebellion. They actually haven't been really looking for him for a while now. In fact, most people don't give the old man with the walking stick any trouble at all."  
The conversation halted when Garbune walked up to the campfire to warm his himself.  
"It looks like our little friend will make a recovery." he said as he rubbed his hands together.

"Is she awake?" Darran asked.

"Yes, but take it easy on the questioning. She's still a bit disoriented right now."  
Merana followed Darran to Garbune's makeshift clinic. Aevra had sat up and her unbound blond hair drifted in front of her face, which swung out of the way when she turned to look at her visitors.

"Hello, I'm Darran," he introduced himself with a fatherly tone.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"We're on the road to Perendale, just north of Andoral's Reach."

"But what about home? I want to go home." Aevra pleaded.

Darran cringed slightly and then put a reassuring hand on the frightened girl's shoulder. "Aevra, your home is gone."

"What about my mama and papa?"

"Missing, along with everyone else from the alienage." said Merana, keeping her stoic composure.

"But," Darran diplomatically interjected. "We hoped that you could help us. Do you remember anything?"

The girl shook her head.

"It would've been late in the evening, does that help?"

Another shake of the head.

"Do you mind leaving me to talk with her?" Merana asked.

Darran nodded his head after a moment of thought, realizing her reason, and turning to leave the tent.

"Don't worry about the shem." Merana said once he was out of earshot, dispensing her accent and formal speech patterns for their originals from living in an alienage. "Where he's from they're not used to having elves fear him."

"Why did your voice change?" Aevra asked.

"When I first started training, one of my friends taught me all of those things. I usually keep them up from habit now."

The girl's shoulders relaxed a bit more as she stared at her lap with a slight smile on her face, like she had discovered she was talking to a lost relative. After a pleasant moment of smiling, her face refocused and she furrowed her brow.

"I really don't know what happened." said Aevra.

"Well, that's okay. What else can you remember? Anything at all."

"I remember papa going to meet with some of the neighbors several nights. Mama had said that he shouldn't bother with what they were talking about"

"But you don't remember exactly what they said?"

"No, mama said not to worry about it."

Merana sighed. This was going nowhere. The girl was still in shock from waking up far from home, but it could not be helped.

Without any way to obtain the information they needed, the two elves began talking back and forth about other things.

-¤-

"She is sleeping again." Merana said as she approached the campfire.

"You talked for some time." commented Darran. Disappointed.

"It was mostly to calm her down and see if she knew about anything else."

"Was there anything else?" Hector asked.

"From what she said, there were several meetings in the alienage before the event, but she did not know any details."

"Do you think these people are really after the girl?"

"Who knows? But we are not abandoning her, nor are we taking her back until we are sure they are not."

"If Garbune still needs to treat her, we might as well tag along for now." said Lenli. "You're headed to Perendale next, right? That's crossing over into Nevarra, so we'll have to be a bit cautious. Especially if we have some…fugitives."

"Have you crossed the border before?"

"Yes, but the route we took cuts through the mountains and it would take us pretty far from our destination."

"So we take the main road, keep the girl out of sight until we get into town, and then swing by the alienage."

"That's if we can get across the border. I hear that the Chevaliers are pretty stubborn keeping people from crossing over."

"Maybe the local tensions will have drawn them away."

"Once we're in the city, we'll still have to find a hiding place for her." said Darran.

"I can take care of that." said Garbune. "For as long as she requires to be hidden. I have become quite adept at remaining unnoticed."

"Very well. We move at first light; I'll take the first watch tonight."


	5. Requiem: Chapter Four

The next couple of days of traveling brought warmer weather as they moved east and into the warmer climate of Nevarra. Merana spent a considerable amount of time chatting up Aevra, asking questions about her home life, hoping that the idle conversation would trigger her memories.

Though it did not yield the desirable results, it did help pass the time and eventually the girl warmed up to the others to the point she started referring to some of the others by nicknames, most notably Merana, who she called Mer to the exclusion of using her actual name. Eventually, she stopped trying to correct her.

Leading from the front, Hector scouted ahead, tilting swiveling his head subtly, surveying the land for threats. Merana and Darran brought up the rear. Lenli loaned the man a bow, which was cradled in his lap.

Lost in thought, Merana nearly bumped into the back of the wagon.

"Why are we slowing down?" she asked.

"Rains have turned the roads to mud." Lenli replied. "Unless-"

"Use your best judgment. I would rather avoid an unnecessary accident."

Darran exhaled deeply, throwing a glance at Merana, which she did not return.  
Hector wheeled around to the others. "Hang on, we have company." Tightening the formation, they proceeded with caution.

Horses thundered up the road, spraying mud and water in their wake. Armor glinted in the meager light that broke through the clouds. At the front, the lead chevalier's face was almost as if it was carved from stone, pale and fierce. Aquamarine eyes focused on the road ahead. Whatever brightness they once held was almost entirely burned away, but still maintained a peculiar intensity.

As they passed, he spared a brief glance, scrutinizing the wagon and those that accompanied it before returning his attention to the road.

"What was that about?" Lenli asked.

"They do seem to be an quite the hurry." Hector added.

"I wonder what for. Also, why were they this close to the border?"

"Coming from a battle I'd wager. Did you see the scuffs on their armor."

"Just keep moving." said Darran. "We want to be as far along as can be in case they decide to come back." Getting the wagon moving again, Darran maneuvered himself next to Merana. "I knew there were rumors of fighting, but I thought it was limited to the major cities."

"Then perhaps it is for the best that we are leaving the country now." she answered.

"You smell that?"

"Blood." Garbune announced. "Smoke, too." The old man stood precariously on the wagon, staring into the thinning foliage. "There." he pointed.

Merana and Hector dismounted and crept in the direction Garbune had indicated. Sweat beaded on the back of her neck. The scent was all too familiar, and normally she would have shrugged it off with no trouble, but there was a certain twinge tacked onto it, a trace of another scent that made her blood chill.

The bushes and stubby trees opened into a clearing where more than two dozen corpses, sans their weapons, had been gathered into a pile and set ablaze.

"I guess this is was why they were in a hurry." Lenli muttered.

"No," said Merana. "This was just as hurriedly assembled. Something else is going on."

"Something that supersedes a brewing civil war, apparently." Hector quipped.

Darran had his horse circle around, managing to keep the beast from throwing him off as he inspected the site. "We'd best keep moving." He said. "Someone else will have seen the smoke."

Passing into Nevarra, they saw no more patrols, though they saw a small number of smoky columns in the distance, which hastened their departure from the country.

A series of storms slowed their progress, forcing them to take shelter in an impression along hills. Even though they lost some time, it gave them and their horses some needed rest. Hector took first watch, standing just at the precipice as mist and spray from the downpour dampened his coat.

Aevra played with some rocks she found while Merana and Darran had readied their fire. She seemed perfectly content to roll them around in her hands, dismissive of everyone else. Merana reassured everyone, as well as herself, that the girl just needed some space while she adjusted.

"Do you think we'll find anything?" Lenli asked. "When we get there, I mean."

"I hope so." Darran replied. "According to my sources, it would've happened a few days ago. Maybe there will be some trace when we get there."

"I hope you aren't hoping to pick up a scent." Hector called over. "This rain will have washed most anything that would make a worthwhile trail."

"Your opinion is very much appreciated, Hector." Merana growled.

The man simply smiled and turned back out to the rainy night.

The morning dawned with clear skies, even if the early hours left a thick fog blanketing the land. They found the road easily enough and moved at a deliberate pace on the muddy road. Apart from some messengers riding out towards Orlais, the road was largely devoid of any signs of company.

Perendale crept over the horizon, undisturbed. The city spread out before them, reddish buildings and tiled rooftops stood tall and wide streets marked the major thoroughfares through the city and the markets. Darran rode to the edge of the cliff overlooking the city. "Something isn't right."

"Maybe your friends were wrong?" Merana suggested.

Just then, a low rumbling intensified into a small earthquake. Some of the towers sank in a plume of dust and debris as the alienage fell into itself and sank into the ground. Calming the horses, they picked up the pace.

The road took a hook to the left, taking them over the ridge before depositing them down the road clinging to the cliffs.

"Whoa." Lenli said as he surveyed the scene.

"It is like the stories of Arlathan and the Tevinter Imperium." Merana whispered.

"It looks like your friends were a couple of days off." said Hector.

"After Andoral's Reach, I thought it would have happened before we got here." Darran replied. "But, I guess it's to be expected from piecing together rumors. Let's get over there and see what we can find in the rubble."

-¤-

Sitting the shadows at the top of the bell tower, a lone figure surveyed the sinkhole from above. To his gratitude, the tower survived the minor earthquake, leaving him an excellent vantage point to observe the aftermath. The small, transparent cube he twirled in his hands added to his eyesight, allowing him to spy on the individuals poking through the destruction.

After spending some time watching the crowds of people milling about, he started playing with the smooth, rounded edges of the viewing stone until something in the distance caught his eye.

Most of the traffic coming in was from the south or east, up the main roads, but one group was entering from western gate. Zooming in on the peculiarity, he identified each of the of group's six members when they stopped after the gate. Two elves, three humans, and a dwarf.

"Well, that is a fascinating group of adventurers to be sure." He muttered to himself. One individual in particular stood out.

Keeping track of the group, they migrated through the city before they split up. One of the older humans had taken the younger elf girl while the others went to the sinkhole.

"Morsval." The figure said into the mirror fragment hanging around his neck. "I believe I have found your runaway."

"Should we deploy to capture?" a voice from the mirror answered.

"No, not yet. Let us see what they find first and let them wander to a more secluded spot before making our move."

"They?"

"She has some friends with her, and they seem rather interested in our handiwork."

A long silence hung in the air as his colleague processed the information.

"Do not worry. All of the loose ends will be dealt with soon enough."

-¤-

Pushing through the throngs of onlookers, Merana, Darran, Hector, and Lenli got to the edge of the sinkhole. Since it was possible that Aevra was still in danger, they did their best to keep her out of sight before sending her off with Garbune to find lodging.  
A handful of people had already made their way into the impression and were already digging into the mess. Merana wondered how many of them were looters, but the thought quickly fell to the back of her mind when Lenli had begun her descent.

While catching up to her, she stopped on a highpoint, overlooking the entirety of the ruins.

"What's on your mind?" Darran asked.

"Something seems odd about this. The hole seems to have gone down more uniformly than the other one." Lenli replied.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that this one used more points of contact than the others. The alienage in Andoral's Reach wasn't that much smaller than this one, but it folded in on itself whereas this one looks like it fell into the ground all at once. Or was shoved down."

Merana looked around and noticed what the dwarf was talking about. "So what you're saying is that that the difference in these cases is that one had a team of decent mages hitting different points at the same time, and the other had one really powerful mage hitting it dead center by himself."

"Pretty much."

"I still don't get how you figured it out." said Hector.

"Think about it this way: you hold out your hand and you press into it with your one of your fingers, you'll feel the press at that one point. But if you do the same thing with your fist, the pressure is distributed more evenly."

"But how does that help us?"

"It tells us that we have at least two groups to worry about, each bringing a considerable amount of weight into any given fight."

"Let's just hope that the one who did Andoral's Reach isn't with them, whenever they do decide to show up." Darran said as he descended into the chasm.

While the others moved further down to help with the digging, the all-too-familiar itch of paranoia formed at the back of Merana's mind.

There were hundreds of people around the sinkhole, and any number of other onlookers observing the scene from the windows. They would have to wrap things up and leave town as soon as possible before the culprits singled them out, if they had not done so already.

Merana slept with one eye open the entire night. She had voiced her concerns to Darran, who volunteered to keep watch, but she was not entirely reassured.  
The feeling persisted through the morning, and Merana spent most of the day looking over her shoulder. The sensation was alleviated slightly when they departed Perendale for one of the local mining towns to the north.

After two days of digging had yield no more information than what they had already learned, Garbune had suggested they leave with a caravan at their earliest opportunity.  
Clovasi was several miles away, but in functionality it was essentially the slums of Perendale, with many of the non-criminal undesirables being relocated there after the initial payoff of the mine it was built around became unusable.

The otherwise unremarkable journey was interrupted by a tremor in the ground.

"What is that?" Merana asked.

"Oh, the shaking?" the caravan leader laughed. "That's rather common around here. We get the rumbling all the time since there's some volcanic activity down below."

"And yet you still remain?"

"It was serious enough to close the old mines, but the town's still safe enough as is."

"I'll bet." Hector muttered.

It was not until they were practically outside the gates before they were able to see the settlement nestled in a canyon that overlooked the plains.

Houses had been formed by either carving holes into the cliffs or using whatever materials that could be scrounged up to build meager houses and shops in the open space in the ravine. It had been remarkable that the periodic tremors had not brought the shoddily constructed parts of the town down.

It was more rundown than Jorrae, but the little village bore much of the same philosophy as the town in the mountains, with all of the different races more or less existing in a semblance of peace.

Without a normal inn to make use of, Darran and the others were placed with one of the locals for the time being, a short elven man known as Mister Welk.  
After Welk had prepared dinner, he stepped out for a bit while everyone else ate.

"We are out of leads." Darran stated after they had finished dinner.

"We could try checking back at Perendale again." Hector suggested. "Maybe there was something we missed there?"

"Until Aevra gets her memories back, I cannot recommend anything that might result in running into the enemy needlessly." said Merana.

"But staying here poses a similar risk if they caught onto our trail like you suspect."

"This place is small enough that people would notice someone going around kidnapping people while still being large enough to hide." said Garbune. "If they are coming after her, we'll be able to notice them much sooner than if we were in the city."

"But until the girl gets her memories back, we still have nothing right now."

"Then we will just have to keep moving then." Merana concluded. "I recommend another day here before we leave again. What are your thoughts, Trace?"

Darran stared out the window, apparently oblivious to the rest of the conversation he had started.

"Darran?" Hector called over.

His trance was broken and he looked at the rest of his travelling party. After a quick summary, he looked back out the window.

"Merana has a good idea," Darran said. "But I think we should leave tomorrow morning or noon at the latest."

"That soon?" Lenli asked.

"If Merana's instincts are good, we've already overstayed our welcome here, but it would be better if we left during the day so as to attract less attention if they are watching the town."

An uncomfortable silence fell on the room, accentuating the gravity of the situation they were in.

Darran noticed no one was going to speak up and addressed everyone. "Get some sleep. We might have some trouble on our hands soon."

-¤-

Even though the canyon blocked most of it, a fresh northerly wind brought another breath of cold to chill the air.

Mister Welk had gotten up early to start breakfast for everyone, cheerily humming a tune while he worked. Around the time they had sat down to eat, the sun was bathing the settlement with its light.

As Merana got herself out of bed, the sounds of life in the town grew, people going to work or otherwise starting their day. But something seemed off.

"What is going on out there?" Merana asked, noting the sudden increase in the number of people walking through the hallways.

"Hey, Welk." one of the neighbors said as they poked their head in the doorway. "There's some meeting in the main square."

"Thank you, Mycah." Mr. Welk said, rising to follow his neighbors, and turned to his guests. "You all stay here. It's probably just the mayor announcing some renovation or something."

After the door had closed, Merana and Hector moved to the window to see if they had a good view of the assembly.

All of the amassed citizens gathered in front of a wooden platform where a tall armored elf was addressing the crowd, with a contingent of roughly half a dozen similarly equipped warriors stood on the stage behind him.

"Greetings, citizens of Clovasi." The elf said. "I am Morsval."

The crowd began murmuring amongst themselves while Morsval continued his speech.

"Recently, a group of travelers arrived in this hidden village of yours. The group consisted of six people; three male humans, two elven women, and a female dwarf. We asked that you turn them over to us, as they are fugitives from the law."

"They wouldn't believe that, would they?" asked Darran.

"Who knows?" said Merana. "Just be ready to move."

"Are they all elves in that contingent down there?" Lenli asked.

Merana did a quick double-take. "It is hard to tell since some of them have helmets on, but the ones that do not certainly are."

"Look over there." Hector whispered, pointing to darkened alleyway where a group of cloaked figures stood overlooking the assembly.

"There are probably more elsewhere."

"I'll snoop out the ones in hiding." said Hector, exiting the room and leaping out a nearby window into the streets below.

"Should we be even getting involved here?" Lenli asked.

"If these people are after us, I do not see any alternatives we have."

"Fine." The dwarf answered, grabbing her crossbow and a pair of short swords. "Garbune, stay with Aevra."

"I'll go with her." Darran said, following her out the door. "Maybe you can figure out what those Perendale guards are doing here."

Merana checked out the window again and spotted the company of guards headed towards the center of town.

"This is going to get messy." she muttered.


	6. Requiem: Chapter Five

Morsval tried not to show his contempt, as the crowd seemed unable to grasp the simple request or did not care. He had had to deal with some indecision and lack of cooperation from the alienages, but they were far fewer in numbers before.

Here, everyone was either idiotic or apathetic, and so much so that it was maddening. They needed more pressure, and he had already deployed the necessary people for the task.

"We know they are in this city, so until you bring these criminals forward, we have erected a barrier that will confine you to this area until our request is fulfilled."

While the throngs voiced their anger at him, Morsval noticed a detachment of guards. _They must have been here before the barrier went up._ He thought to himself. It was time to use more assured measures, regardless of whether or not Julios had finished his task.

"You can't do that to us!" a voice from the crowd shouted.

"I believe you have no choice in the matter." Morsval answered, donning his helmet and giving the signal to begin the attack.

An explosion ripped through the crowd, and out of the shadows, armored elves began slaughtering the hapless citizens as they tried to flee. Merana and some of the city guards rushed into the massacre, cutting down the assailants as they came across them.

Watching the approaching enemy, Morsval touched the band of a device affixed to his wrist, which then emitted a blue shield, and then drew his sword. Some of the soldiers broke off from murdering the assembled masses to meet the guards. Merana evaded them, charging straight for their commanding officer.

One of the larger guards outpaced the others, parrying Morsval's sword swing and tackling him. The larger man smashed against the shield, pushing the elf backwards, nearly knocking his weapon from his hand.

The guard looked at the elf's weapon. It looked more like an oversized knife than a proper sword. "What do you intend to do with such a tiny blade?"

As the elves guarding Morsval attempted to intervene, an arrow found its way the head of one of the ones who had failed to don his helmet in time. The next arrow glanced off of the helmet of the next.

Momentarily deactivating his shield, Morsval allowed the guard the grab him in a bear hug. As quickly as he had deactivated it, he opened the shield again, this time emitting a loud shriek as it cut the guard in two.

With a flick of his wrist, the blade extended, opening up the along the segmented engravings, revealing a haunting orange glow and doubling its length.

Attacking with renewed vigor, Morsval charged back at his enemies, slashing at the nearest guard, cutting cleanly through his armor as if it were made of parchment, distorting the air as it sliced into his flesh. As the guard fell with a contorted look on his face, Morsval turned his attention to Merana.

The first swing cut the top of her shield off, missing Merana's head by an inch. Watching the severed part of the shield fly off, Merana went to dodging his attacks.

-¤-

When the sounds of battle ensued, Hector jumped down on his quarries. Taking on a trio of opponents with glee, Hector danced around, slashing and stabbing at joints and breaks that they left in their defenses until they could barely stand, and then finished them off by slashing necks starting under the left ear.

With his initial attackers laying at his feet, another group of elves approached him, one of which had more distinct markings on his helm, identifying him as a higher ranking member.

"You look like you're a tough opponent;" Hector said, pointing at the leader. "I'll take you on next."

"That is a rather confident proclamation." The leader answered.

"It's not my best, but who's going to care when you're dead." Hector grinned, pointing his sword at the elf.

The soldiers flanking the captain rushed Hector, meeting him with a storm of blades that Hector blocked or evaded, occasionally countering a strike with a slash of his own. Within minutes, all of the warriors were bleeding on the ground with slashed necks and a number of other wounds.

"You don't seem very distraught over your subordinates' deaths." Hector said smugly, wiping some blood from his brow. "What rank are you anyways?"

"In your words, I guess I would be referred to as a captain. And to your other inquiry, I honestly was not expecting much from them, but they did show me much about your technique."

"Oh, I have plenty more tricks up my sleeve than what you saw."

"I can imagine." The elf tilted his head and smiled, looking at Hector's weapon. "A seeker of blood and death, and yet you wield a blade with Andrastian philosophy and flowers inscribed into it."

"You're not going to run away, are you?"

The sound of a sword being drawn from its sheath answered his question.

"Excellent." he said as he rushed the Captain.

-¤-

Garbune glanced out the window while keeping against wall to reduce his profile to any who might happen to look in his direction. After the explosion ripped through the crowd, Merana and the Perendale guards had engaged the elven warriors in combat.

When the initial confusion had worn off, some of the citizens had begun to turn the tables on their attackers by numbers, but when they started to make progress, a new wave of reinforcements took the field.

Most of the contingent of guards had been decimated rushing the platform, and after engaging leader, it had come down to Merana and maybe two or three guards left to fight him.

From his angle, Merana was holding her own fairly well, even though her shield had been made useless, but her sword was still intact, so she could still defeat him if she did not foolishly sacrifice it.

Hector had disappeared into the alleyways, out of Garbune's view. Meanwhile, Darran and Lenli had picked off some stragglers and other isolated opponents, trying to avoid tangling with the main force in the town square.

The sound of Aevra heavy and erratic breathing distracted Garbune from the battle below, bringing him to her side. As Garbune was working on calming her down, Aevra popped up, nearly head-butting him in the face.

"I remember now." Aevra said in horror.

"What can you tell me?" Garbune asked.

"It was late at night, like you all said, and I remember seeing who did it."

"Can you describe him?"

Aevra's eyes widened and she pointed to the door.

Standing in the doorway was a tall elf with a heavy brown cloak and behind him were two more elves, heavily armored and weapons drawn.

"Hello again." The cloaked elf said, barely above a whisper, but still carrying across the room.

Garbune grabbed his staff and took a fighting stance.

The elf took a deep breath and threw off the cloak, revealing two gauntleted hands which let off a metallic click as claws extended from the fingertips. "One more fool to rid the world of."

-¤-

An explosion rocked the ground, momentarily distracting Merana from the battle, nearly allowing herself to be bisected by Morsval's glowing sword.

Utilizing his momentum, Morsval redirected his attack at the man behind her. The guard who he had stabbed collapsed to the ground in a fit of spasms, screaming in pain.

This time, Merana recognized the familiar sensation of blood magic in use, but unlike the other times she had felt the sensation, it felt subdued, or contained, like something was isolating the effect to a small area around the wound.

Grabbing the falling guard's sword, Merana moved the sword to block the attack, twirling around her opponent and slashing at his back while his sword was busy cutting through the blade barrowed by Merana.

Changing the direction in the middle of his swing, Morsval cut into Merana's shoulder, making her wince in pain and lose her balance.

"That's strange." the elf said as he approached to finish her off. "All of the others did not hold up anywhere near this level. What makes you special?"

Merana scooted away, readjusting her grip on her sword.

"I guess we will never know." Morsval said with cold voice and a sadistic smirk.

As the blade came down at her again, Merana met the blow, screaming in fury.

As the two swords met, Merana released a burst of energy, shattering Morsval's blade. The scattering chunks of glowing sword flew past her, allowing her own sword to bury itself in his torso.

Pulling her sword free, she drove it back into the elf's chest.

Morsval grunted and coughed out blood as he reached for his killer's face, but fell to the ground, his armor banging against the granite floor.

Breathing heavily, Merana sank to her knees and inspected her wounds. From what she could see, apart from the wound on her shoulder, she had only suffered minor lacerations, most of which were brought on when the sword exploded in her face.

A wall in the alleyway next to her burst apart with Hector driving his sword through one of the elves' throats, pinning him against the adjacent wall.

"I was wrong;" Hector said as pulled his sword from his opponent's throat. "You were hardly worth the effort." Letting the elf's battered body slump against the wall, Hector turned to Merana.

"Are you alright?" he asked, pressing his cleaning rag against his mouth.

"Not really." She replied. "But I can still run if I have to."

"It looks like you had quite the fight here." Hector said, looking at the bodies scattered around the town square. "It looks like you took out their leader too."

"So it would seem." Merana said, running her hand through her hair. "Could you grab an item from his left wrist?"

"Taking a trophy?" Hector asked as he moved to fulfill her request.

"No, but it looked like something that we could use and my shield was ruined in the fighting."

When his initial attempts to remove the item proved futile, Hector sliced the hand from the body.

"That looks nice." Hector said, pulling the shield device from Morsval's wrist and handing it to Merana.

As Merana was fitting the device, Darran and Lenli rushed to their companions' side.

"A bunch of them just broke off from the battle." Darran said, panting.

Lenli looked at the column of smoke rising from the apartments they were staying. "Wait a minute." She said, piecing things together in her head. "That explosion was where the others were."

A trio of elves emerged from the smoke onto the balcony outside Aevra's room. One had a small figure slung over his shoulder.

"No." Merana gasped.

The elf carrying Aevra passed her off to one of his companions and turned his gaze towards those gathered below.

"This does not look good." Darran said, readying himself for another attack.

The elf leapt from building to building, crushing a crystalline shard in each hand, and jumping over the square, drew right hand back like an archer drawing a bowstring, clapped his hands together, and fell to the ground, smashing his right hand against the ground.

Standing up, he looked at the warriors surrounding him, smirking at them as if daring them to attack him.

The silence after the impact seemed to go on forever before the ground began to shake beneath their feet.

"Move!" Darran shouted, grabbing Merana and dragging her out of the way of a collapsing building.

Like a shot, the elf took off, jumping on whatever available foothold he found amongst the falling city as he made his way to the edge of the developing sinkhole.

"Curse you, Julios!" Morsval screamed, standing to his feet with Merana's sword still in his chest.

No sooner had the words left his mouth, a bolt of arcane energy burned through his head, fired from a gauntleted hand from above. As Morsval's smoldering corpse fell to the ground, Hector pulled Merana's sword away and rolled to the side to avoid the splitting terrain that swallowed the dead elf's body.

For the next minute, the air was filled the rumbling of the ground as everyone took shelter under one of the sturdier buildings. Merana narrowly dodged a falling wall, which separated her from the others while the town sank.

When the ground had settled and the dust cleared away, they emerged to find themselves looking up the sides of the sinkhole.

"It looks like we'll be able to climb out." Darran said, point at the slope of rubble ascending to the edge of the sinkhole.

The ground began to shake once more.

"We have to find Garbune." said Lenli.

"We don't have time!" Hector shouted.

"I don't care!" Lenli shouted back.

"I'll find him." Merana declared, running through the mounds of destroyed homes and businesses.

"By yourself?" Darran asked.

"It will be fine."

The earthquake had turned the city over and scrambled it around, but the layout was roughly the same.

Entering the ruined apartment, she found Garbune leaned against what had been the ceiling, blood dripping from his mouth and other wounds he had suffered.

"I'm glad Lenli thinks of me this highly," Gabune rasped. "but I think you're too late."

"I am here to get you out of here; the place is still collapsing."

"Don't worry about me." the old man coughed. "I suspected something like this might happen, but it's good you came back. There's something for you in my coat pocket; it should still be intact."

Obeying the man's directions, she retrieved the item in question. The device seemed crude, but also resilient, as its red contents remained undisturbed inside.

"A phylactery?" Merana asked.

Garbune smiled. "Like the ones you used to use to find people like me."

Merana stared at into Garbune's watery grey eyes, trying to deflect the notion.  
"You don't have to hide it; I knew it from the moment we met and that burst of energy earlier was unmistakable."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Garbune retorted. "Now go. I don't know what have planned for Aevra, but you need to save her, and tell Lenli that it was a pleasure working with her."

A burst of heat hastened Merana's departure, leaving the old man smiling until he breathed his last.

Taking one look down the ravines, she saw lakes of magma rising deep beneath the surface. She could see where the others had gone and tried her best to follow the same route.

As she approached the edge of the sinkhole, the path began to crumble away, leaving her with no way to make it to the top. Another tremor knocked some more rocks loose, getting her higher, but it still left her a couple of meters from the surface when she saw Hector looking over the edge.

"The route we took is gone." he shouted to the others.

"Take this." Lenli said, tossing a metal cylinder to Hector. "Put it in the ground and pull the pin, and then get the heck away from it."

The ensuing explosion caused more rock to slide down, putting her close enough to make a running jump. Climbing over the edge with Hector's assistance, she caught her breath while sitting on the ground.

"Where's Garbune." Lenli asked

"He is not going make it." Merana answered, wearing an emotionless expression.

Lenli staggered as if hit in the chest, then she began shaking her head. "Don't lie to me!" she screamed, grabbing Merana's collar. "Garbune has been through worse than this, survived worse than this, and you just left him behind to die?"

"If he had not convinced me to leave him, I would have tried dragging him out and gotten caught down there with him."

"Quit giving me that ice queen performance! Tell me this just a joke, and I might forgive you!"

It took Darran and Hector to pry the distraught dwarf from Merana.

"He's really gone." Lenli said with tears dripping down her cheeks. "But you found him at least, right?"

"Yes, he wanted me to tell you that it was a pleasure working with you."

"He did, didn't he?" Lenli said through sniffling. "That sounds like him."

"So what do we do now?" Darran asked.

"We get away from this place for now." said Merana, looking towards the eastern horizon.

-¤-

The group departed under the watchful eye of Julios, sitting in the cliffs above.

"So you survive once again." he chuckled as the city was consumed by fire and melted rock. "Good luck trying to convince anyone to help you."

Pushing the volcanic activity was a nice after-touch to their usual procedure. Anyone who came up to the settlement would have no trails or evidence on much of anything now that it was burned and buried.

Morsval's mishandling of the situation aside, he was still somewhat irked at the turn of events, but word from the top had informed him that the recruitment process had been concluded and it was time to return home.

As much as he hated leaving the survivors to run free, orders were orders, and they had recovered one of the potentials. Hopefully, this one would prove to be more useful.  
Standing up, he looked down at his escaping prey. "We will meet again."


	7. Requiem: Chapter Six

Camping that night was somber and cold. With most of their equipment lost in Clovasi's destruction, they had to make do with what little they could find. Sleep was scarce and what little they did get was fitful and restless, so they stayed around their campfire instead.

"We're going to take these monsters down, right?" Lenli questioned, finally interrupting their collective silence.

"Is there any alternative?" Merana asked in return. "These people, whoever they are, have abducted who knows how many people, and killed plenty more like we saw today. It is very likely they plan to continue their abominable acts in the near future unless someone does something to stop them."

Darran threw the woman a look.

"What are we supposed to do with four people?" Hector asked. "We still don't even know who they are."

"I think we can piece together enough."

"Already ahead of you." said Darran.

The others stared at him as he smirked and continued.

"What we have is an organization comprised solely of elves, at least some of whom are mages who appear to have never been under the oversight of the Chantry or even Tevinter. Furthermore, they are well equipped, carrying technology previously unseen by Thedas. And to top it all off, they appear to be very dedicated to covering their tracks. Using the information we have, we can infer the possibility of an underground elven empire. And I don't mean the literal kind either."

"Do you think the Dalish have been working at this the whole time?" Lenli asked.

"Not the Dalish; they're the type of people who are finely tuned to nature, and none of the people we fought had anything that looked remotely related to the Dalish weaponry. Even their techniques seemed mechanical and alien to anything I've ever seen, and it doesn't appear to be anything descending from Arlathan either, but I'm not sure if that's a result of it having an entirely different origin, or just being some heavily modified that it no longer resembles anything of the past."

"How did you come up with that?" Merana asked.

"Pieces gathered, here and there. But the bigger question is where they have been living for all this time."

Merana pulled out Garbune's device, holding it up for the others to see. "Perhaps this will help us."

Lenli stood up to get a closer look at it. "That looks like Garbune's handiwork, but what is it?"

"It is a phylactery."

"Oh, that thing. He wanted to make one for himself so that he could disappear when smelled trouble, but not have it take ages for me to find him again. So he actually finished it? He had spent months on that thing, but he wasn't able to make it work for some reason."

"Well he apparently finished it." Hector pointed. "But I thought that was for mages."

"Then either he figured out how to make it work for us normal folk, or Aevra's a mage." Darran said as he stared at the device. "How does it work?"

"He did not say much about it, and it is a bit different from the phylacteries I am used to."

"Wait a minute. Used to?"

"I am a Templar, or rather, I was a Templar."

Lenli shifted uneasily, but the others seemingly took the revelation in stride. Darran stroked his chin. "How did a Templar wind up in the middle of nowhere?

"After the Kirkwall Rebellion, the Templars were in an uproar, eager to annul every Circle as soon as possible, but I couldn't go along with it. So I ran."

Hector let out a low whistle.

"I do not know about the rest of you," she continued, not letting anyone pull anymore on the threads of her past. "But I am going to save Aevra, and put a stop to these fiends before they can harm anyone else."

"Not without us, you're not." said Darran.

"That still doesn't solve the problem our distinct lack in numbers." Hector said. "As skilled as we are, they still have an army and what is liable to be a fortress."

Lenli looked at Hector and smiled. "Give me a little time and access to the resources, and I can give us plenty of stuff to even the playing field, even if it is just the four of us. And since we're in my neck of the woods anyways, I know where we can get it, too."

"There is also two other factors to consider:" Said Merana. "They have probably never been infiltrated and they have all of those they have abducted being held within reasonable distance to their fortress, possibly even in the fortress itself, meaning we could muster up additional strength once we are inside."

"That doesn't mean it's going to be easy." Darran said. He gave the phylactery a hard look. "That thing looks like a compass. Where is it pointing?"

"North."

"Hmm…depending on how far north it is, I may be able to call in a favor."

"Very well, then. Lenli, where is our next stop?"

"We're going to my hometown."

Mar-Kadek was situated up on a plateau near the base of a mountain four days' journey from Clovasi. Periodically, Merana checked the phylactery to check its bearing, which began to teeter to the left, but still had a dull glow to it, which meant that Aevra was still alive for the time being.

"So what is this place, Lenli?" Darran asked.

"It's an old settlement that was built by some surface dwarves who were disgruntled for being banished."

"It looks like a dump."

"Don't worry; it's not all that bad."

"Halt!" a voice shouted from the top of the gate. "Who goes there?"

"Until you meet some of the people." Lenli muttered before addressing the guard. "And a fine day to you too, Sobeck." Lenli cheerily answered.

"Why did you come back here, you disgrace?"

"Because I missed you." Lenli said sarcastically.

"Go away! We don't want you here."

"I'm not here to cause trouble. My friends and I are just here for supplies."

"After what you did, do you think we'll ever let you back in?"

"No, but I thought you would at least allow my friends to do some shopping for me."

"No can do, Lenli."

"I'd be sitting outside the city the entire time. Under watch, lock, and key if it makes you happy."

"No!" Sobeck yelled and left the wall after spitting at Lenli.

"That was a warm welcome." said Hector.

"Can't say I blame them." Lenli replied.

"Why is that?" Merana asked.

Lenli sighed. "They're pissed off because I was reinventing some of our mining explosives, only when they tested them out, a bunch of miners ended up killing themselves and some other people in the city. So they kicked me out and exiled me."

"Should we keep going?" Darran asked.

"I don't know where else to get the supplies I need, so I say we just hold out for the time being. Hopefully someone reasonable is up there."

Setting up a makeshift camp from discarded materials, the four of them sat outside the gate, periodically receiving an angry glare from the guards, or spit from Sobeck, who kept yelling at them every time he had the opportunity.

The morning was more pleasant, but the gate remained closed.

"We're losing daylight." Hector said, watching the shadows slowly shorten with the sun's ascent.

Lenli threw another rock off the cliff. "If the people running this place are the type I think they are, they're going to come to us soon."

"How can you be so certain?" Merana asked.

"Because this place is funny like that."

Presently, the gates swung upon and an entourage of nobles and guards approached them.

"My Lord, I cannot-" Sobeck started, but was cut off by one of the nobles.

"She may have made a mistake that cost us dearly, but since it was not done out of malice, she is still entitled to _some_ rights."

"Lord Emveran." Lenli greeted as the entourage stopped in front of them, politely bowing, followed by her friends.

"I'm surprised you even tried to come back here," Emveran said. "But your exile is absolute; you cannot be allowed back into the city."

"I wasn't expecting to be, my Lord."

"Then what were you expecting?"

"My friends and I are headed north. We need to resupply before we can go on."

"What in particular do you need?"

"The ingredients to my 'recipe'."

A pause told of the dwarf's discomfort. "What do you intend to do with them?"

"We ran afoul of some powerful enemies, and we need to level the playing field."

Lenli's words hung in the air as she stared at the noble.

"And once you have your materials, you will depart once more?"

"As fast as we can."

Emveran stood up straight and looked and Merana, Darran, and Hector.

"We will allow two of your companions to enter, but only under guard. Once they have completed their acquisitions, they will be escorted out of the city again."

"Thank you, my Lord." Lenli said. "You are most generous."

Sobeck almost spoke out, but shut his mouth and walked away, unable to object.

"Oh, Lenli. Keep your eyes and ears open. These are dangerous times."

"Aren't they always?"

"More than usual. May the ancestors watch over you."

To this, Lenli only nodded. As promised, Darran and Merana acquired new equipment and the items on a list that Lenli had wrote up and left the city, making camp at nightfall so the dwarf could do her work.

"And you're sure you won't blow us up now." Hector asked.

"I'm sure." Lenli replied. "I've had five years to improve this thing. I was almost finished with it before my banishment. Even though being deprived of the resources that I was used to put me back a few years, I still finished it."

"Why did you build them in the first place?" Merana asked. "Do the dwarves not already have mining explosives?"

"Yeah, but they're kind of tricky to use and their effects can be rather lackluster, hence why I redesigned them in the first place." The dwarf paused to inspect the first of her crafted explosives. "Now, if you don't mind, I could use some space. Dealing with volatile components here."

"Sorry."

Giving the dwarf her desired space, plus a bit more, Merana held out her shield arm. The device she had taken from the enemy. She took care to keep it from hitting anything or anyone, all too familiar with the shield's cutting capabilities. Still, she had yet to figure out how to activate it. With Lenli working on her project, Merana figured she would give the tool another try.

She looked over the controls on the device. Flicking one switch, Merana was greeted with silence as the device failed to activate. Flipping another one, she could hear a faint buzz coming from it, but it otherwise remained inert.

"Having trouble?" Hector asked.

Merana gave the swordsman an annoyed look, but then relaxed. It was not his fault that the shield was not working for her.

"Can I see it?"

Removing the bangle, she tossed it the man. "Maybe you can figure it out."

He looked it over, turning it over in his hands "Maybe it was only to be used by its original owner? Or..."

"What?"

"Put it on again and try one of your stances. I have an idea."

Re-affixing the device, Merana held her arm out as if to block an attack.

"Nothing is happening." She said. "What are you trying to do?"

"I have a theory that it might be connected to your mental state. Now, try focusing as if you were getting ready to block an attack."

Merana frowned. "Nothing."

"Strange."

Hector circled around her, lips twisted as he contemplated his next course of action. Merana almost did not catch that he was drawing his sword until it was nearly too late. Forgetting that she did not have a proper shield, she faced Hector holding up her arm. To her surprise, a blue glow lit the night and the sword bounced off.

Still too surprised at the success, Merana did not counterattack. Meanwhile, Hector was nearly giggling. "Nothing better than a life or death situation for training."

"You could have warned me first." Merana said bitterly.

"I thought I gave you a hint."

"A hint?!"

"I said it might be connected to your mental state, and it responded when you were in danger. Try relaxing."

Glaring at Hector, Merana tried to relax. Before long, the shield flickered out.

"See?" Hector said triumphantly.

"I will concede that you were able to achieve the results," Merana replied. "But remember, next time you try something like this, I will castrate you."

"Of that, I have no doubt." The man chuckled to himself.

Allowing her arm to relax, Merana disengaged the shield. She then fell back into a fighting stance, this time getting instant results.

"I think this will work."

Watching from a nearby hill, Darran watched their progress. _Hector's going to get himself killed like that_. He thought. _Does he have a death wish?_ Looking back at the campfire, he could see as Lenli finished securing the casing, holding the cylinder in both hands.

"So that's what it's supposed to look like?" Darran asked.

"Actually, this is the way it's supposed to look like for mining purposes. A proper grenade would be more like a ball."

"How many can you make with what we got you?"

"About a couple dozen, I'd say. Maybe a few more."

Hector and Merana rejoined them around the campfire.

"How soon do you think we will be able to leave?" Merana asked.

Lenli looked up from her work. "I would say sometime the day after tomorrow."

"Excellent."

"Now let's give these things a trial run."

Darran's eyes widened. "Here?"

"Why not?" Lenli asked nonchalantly. "We're far enough away that we don't have to worry about blowing up anything important." Seeing her companions' hesitant looks. "Come on. I have to make sure we weren't sold faulty merchandise."

"And if anyone is tailing us?" asked Merana.

"It's not like we've done a good job shaking them in the first place."

Pondering the dwarf's argument, Merana sighed. "Do it quickly."

Lenli picked up one of her bombs and walked always to a cluster of rocks. Setting the device, she primed it an then ran as fast as she could to cover. About a minute later, the rock cluster was enveloped in a blossom of fire, raining bits of stone around the campsite.

Walking back to the camp, Lenli had a smiled across her face. "Will that work for you?"


	8. Requiem: Chapter Seven

Merana adjusted her cloak, pulling the hood a bit further above her eyes to block out the sun.

After their brief stop, it had not been long before they were crossing into the Anderfels. Since then, the weather had warmed slightly, moreseo the further they moved north. The weeks dragged on as they made their journey north and the green became more sparse, following the phylactery's guidance.

Slowly but surely, the glow gradually intensified, even if at times it looked no different than before. More than once had they had to make long detours around impassible terrain. Eventually, they found themselves on the vast plains that the Anderfels were known for.

"This place looks lovely." Hector said sarcastically, surveying the barren terrain before them.

Merana agreed with the unspoken sentiment. From their vantage point, nothing but the same featureless locale continued as far as the eye could see.

Behind them, Darran was arranging some accommodations with the caravan preparing to make the journey to the next city. To their collective gratitude, the cooler weather made the negotiations go more smoothly.

"How's the phylactery going?" Lenli asked.

Merana observed the device's readings. "We're still nowhere near where she was taken."

The dwarf pulled her knees to her chest. "Do you think Darran will be able to call in those favors he was talking about?"

"I have not a clue."

Darran rejoined them, nodding back their acknowledgements. "If the person I'm expecting is still there," He said. "Then there is no doubt that it will work out. For now, we just need to focus on getting there."

* * *

The journey across the plains was harsh, though the members of the caravan insisted that it was nothing compared to the summers. Hector made small-talk with some of them, subtly squeezing them for information in addition the conversational fluff.

Two days into their journey, the scouts returned hastily. Before anyone could say anything, a column of dust crossed the landscape alongside them before cutting across the path. Though obscured, the riders could be readily identified as Dalsih scouts.

"Is it common to see Dalish out in these parts?" Hector asked. "There aren't any trees out here."

"Some of the clans have a tradition of wandering these parts." the driver answered.

Merana watched the scouts with interest. "And the horses? I did not think their were typically a part of Dalish culture."

"Guess the harsh lands demanded certain changes. I've heard that Halla don't do well around here."

The riders circled around the caravan at a distance before breaking off and heading west. Another column of dust joined them and then the riders galloped out of sight.

"I don't like it." one of the caravan guards stated. "They keep circling around us like they want something and then disappear again. I'd like it better if they attacked. Then we'd know what they want."

"Maybe they just want to be left alone. Or they think you're intruding upon their territory."

The guard spat. "Dalish don't have territory. They lost land twice. I think that should say enough about how things are. I'm sure plenty of them want revenge over that."

"Why do you say that?"

"Once you seen a Dalish raid, you find yourself seeing things differently. They're so determined to find their lost culture, there's no doubt in my mind that they want to do more than that."

The driver tugged at Merana's sleeve. "Don't listen to him." he whispered. "He's...not all there up there, you hear? Too many blows to the head."

Merana nodded, but her mind turned to their present quest. _What would the Dalish do if they found someone championing the elvish cause the way we've been seeing_.

Miles and miles stretched on with the occasional collection of hills or a gouge in the earth. Few other creatures were seen, both on the ground and in he skies. One day they had a pair of riders speed past them. The scouts returned days later, still at a distance, never giving any indication as to their purpose or their intent towards the caravaners. On one of the more interesting days, one of the guards swore he saw a dragon among the clouds.

"And why would a dragon be just flying around, Dalder?"

Dalder scowled, but had nothing else to say. His companion grinned triumphantly.

"That's because there's nothing out here. Get a hold of yourself, man."

Despite the other man's jovial laugher rippling across the rest of the caravaners, a sense of foreboding clung in the air. Merana wrapped her cloak around her a little tighter, mainly to cover her left wrist, but at that moment, the wind seemed a bit colder.

It was several more days passed until they finally reached their destination.

Hossberg was settled in a valley of green, a relief after the miles of greyish-brown that they had passed along the way. The city walls ran up the inclines and towers and terraces gave the defenders a good view of the surrounding area. The position indicated a past with dragons, but they had long since fallen into disuse. The Chantry sat on the rise in the middle of town, spires reaching to the sky, statues facing out to Val Royeaux.

"That's quite the impressive city." said Hector. Merana scoffed.

"You must have never been to Val Royeaux."

"Actually, I have. It's just that it seems too...pretty. Too superficial. As far as capitols go, this has more of a rugged beauty. A city that has endured outside invasions, survived multiple attempts at destruction by the darkspawn, endured even dragons, let alone the fact that the city is practically an oasis in an otherwise inhospitable land. I just find the city's determination inspiring."

Arriving at the gates, guards surrounded the caravan for an inspection. The guards poked their heads into each wagon, giving the occupants stern looks.

Lenli glanced at the guards as they finished inspecting their wagon. "Is it me or do they all seem tense?" she whispered.

"I agree." Merana replied. "The way they walk and hold their weapons make it look as if they were expecting a fight"

"What fight, though?"

The guards banged their hand against the last wagon and reassembled to the right, waiting for their commander. Giving a nod to the lead wagon, the guard-captain stepped back

"Continue into the city." he said.

The caravan pulled the market square. Merana and Hector helped unload the cargo

"Thank you for your hospitality." Darran said, offering a slight inclination of his head as they passed.

Setting out into the heart of the city, Merana rested her hand on her sword. Like the guards, Merana could see the fear in the way the citizenry carried themselves and the way their eyes flitted about as if they were expecting an iminent attack, not to mention the sparsely populated streets. Few stores were open without a guard or two posted nearby.

"How's the phylactery?" Darran asked.

Merana pulled surreptitiously pulled the device out when they ducked into a corner. The pulsing, red glow had begun more pronounce in minute amounts, but was still far too dull to be close enough, though its point was still pointing steadfastly north.

"If this is correct, we still have a considerable distance to go."

"Garbune wouldn't have made a faulty gadget. It's working."

The alleys were quiet, even more empty than the open streets. Darran led them through the city, ducking into the alleys and through major paths, leading to a row of large, monotonous buildings.

"Here we are." Darran said, stopping at a rather large doorway.

"Who goes there?" a nasally voice said.

"I'm Darran Trace and I'm here to see Phyren Calentus." Darran answered.

"Should that name mean anything to me?"

"Just tell him." Darran stressed, allowing an edge of anger creep into his voice.

"I must stress that you in the city at our pleasure and-"

"Tell him that Tracer is here to see him." Darran growled, shedding his generic Fereldan accent for a very pronounced Tevinter one.

A silence fell on the other side of the door for a few minutes as the people on the other side scrambled on the other side.

"…he will see you right away." The doorkeeper said, hurriedly opening the door to allow the visitors to enter.

They were led into what might have been a throne room, with thick pillars and elaborate artworks covering the wall. The ceiling sloped upwards the further they went in. At the rise spanning the far end of the room was a tall wooden chair at a desk. Sitting in the chair was an elf with long dark hair leaning his chin on his right pointing and middle finger.

"Well there is face I have not seen in a while." The elf said with amusement.

"Enough with the pleasantries, Phyren;" Darran retorted. "I'm here to discuss business."

Phyren sat back in his chair, tenting his fingers in front of his chest. "Then by all means, do so."

"This would be better if we could arrange a proper meeting."

"And why would I do that?"

"As I recall, you still owe me."

The elf smiled. "And here I thought you were never going to need that favor."

"Is that a no, then?"

"I did not say I was never going to repay you. But I had thought that a favor of that magnitude would be unnecessary after you left Tevinter."

"Things change. Besides, I'm looking for someone. Several someones, as a matter of fact."

"The great Tracer is having trouble finding someone?" Phyren said with a slight laugh, but stopped when he looked back at his old acquaintance glaring at him. "Is Joseline one of them?" he asked.

Darran stared at the ground. Phyren smiled sadly.

"Then I will help as much as I can. I cannot abandon you after what you did for us. I'll see what I can do for you."

"Thank you."

"Would you and the pretty one care to join me for dinner. After you've washed up of course. We can discuss the details of your request then."

"I figured you would say as much." Darran replied, then turned to his friends. "Don't worry about us. We'll be back before too long."

Leaving the audience chamber, Lenli gave a side glance to Darran. "Who was he referring to when he said 'pretty'? 'Cause he definitely wasn't talking about me."

"That would be Merana." Darran replied.

"Oh." Hector said with feigned disappointment. "Merana, am I not pretty?"

The elf squinted at her companion. "You're too rugged to be considered pretty."

"You wound me."

Once they were in the relative privacy of their quarters, Merana began her questions.

"What was that back there?" she began. "And why are you repeatedly being referred to as 'Tracer'?"

"I, too, would like to know." Hector's tone was less accusative, but just as curious.

Settling down in a couch, Darran sighed. "I suppose I might as well tell you now. I could say it was a nickname from my days in Tevinter, but it would be more appropriate to call it my only name from Tevinter."

"That explains your accent."

"Darran Trace wasn't my original name. I…took it back up when I started on this quest of mine. The name I would be normally referred to is Darran Caiden. As for Tracer, well...back when I was in Tevinter, I was a well-known slave-catcher, and I had a knack for tracking down runaways across the country or even into other lands. From some of the minutest scraps of information, I could anticipate their moves before they could ever make them. Because of that, I got the nickname Tracer, which eventually became the only name I was referred to as."

"Charming."

"All of those days, I felt hollow, like I was missing something. I didn't find what that was until I met Joseline." Darran lapsed into nostalgia before continuing the story. "She was a highly regarded slave that was working for my boss. She was dutiful and commanded a good deal of influence for her station, and despite my reputation, I found her to be rather engaging. Before long, I was falling for her. Eventually, there was an earthquake that resulted in the city being damaged and a number of slaves escaping. I got Phyren, Joseline, and several others out of Tevinter, and after covering our tracks and splitting ways, I got as far away from there as I could. And she followed me. Even after all I had done, she still loved me. So, we married and found a small corner of the world to settle in."

The story end left Merana scowling. "That's a wonderfully romantic tale, but it doesn't change the fact that you were a source of terror for your charges and those you hunted."

"I am aware of that." Darran snapped. "In fact, I've spent most of my life since then looking over my shoulder expecting a knife in the back."

Hector diplomatically stepped between the two. "I believe this is proving counter-productive. While I was hoping for answers, I was not expecting it to jeopardize our mission. For now, can you two cooperate as normal. Whoever our enemy has captured, which includes Aevra I might add, they need us to save them, and their fates could very well depend on this meeting."

Calming herself down, Merana gritted her teeth and prepared to vacate when someone knocked on the door.

A servant poked their head in when Merana opened the door, carrying a package.

"M-my master offers these vestments for this evening." the servant quickly said.

"Thank you." Darran said, as Merana received the package. "Send Phyren our gratitude."

With a quick bow, the girl hastily left.

Mentally grumbling to herself, Merana opened box and squinted at the contents.

"Well that wasn't what I was expecting."

* * *

Darran and Merana climbed the steps to the dining room. Thanks to their host, they had been given clothes suitible for dinner with someone of high standing.

"I cannot believe we're doing this." Merana said, trying to adjust her clothes to where they were comfortable.

"At least gave you something relatively close to your tastes." Darran replied. "He could have had given you a dress. Besides, he's letting us keep our weapons on us. Now keep you chin up. We're here."

The doorman stood up straight, quietly announcing the guests' arrival. "Master Darran and his escort." The doors slid open, ushering the duo inside.

"So I am your escort?" Merana asked.

"Considering that your combative skills," Darran said with a smile. "That would be the best place for you anyways."

"And would he know that?"

"A man of Phyren's position doesn't get their without excellent skills at observation. How else do you think he could have gotten properly fitting clothes for the both of us?"

For a dining area, it was rather small, and empty at that. Phyren stood at the window overlooking the city with his hands clasped behind his back. He looked over his should as his guests entered, practically gliding around the table to meet them.

"Welcome, Darran."

"It's been far too long, my friend."

"I wish it were under better circumstances

Darran shook the man's offered hand, smiling sadly. "Indeed."

Returning the smile, Phyren directed his attention to his other guest. "And what would be your name? I apologize for not asking for it earlier."

"Merana." the ex-Templar replied.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Merana. Please. Have a seat." The other elf helped Merana into her seat despite the scathing look she shot him. Once all were comfortable, Phyren called for dinner. "Now that our immediate business is done with, perhaps we can catch up over dinner."

Smirking, Darran sliced off a piece of roast. "How about you start." He said before plunging the morsel into his mouth. "I mean, you've led a more interesting life than I."

Phyren grinned, but his expression sombered quickly. "Dragons have been seen crossing over the land, headed to parts unknown. Scouts reported that some of the smaller settlements were destroyed."

"The Dragon extinction has been disproven for some time now."

"You misunderstand me. If it were one, it would merely be a cause for alarm. What the scouts have been saying is that entire wings have been seen crossing the plains. Thankfully, they've been largely ignoring us. Additionally, apart from some destroyed towns and villages, the only people who have been killed were those who tried hunting the beasts."

"That sounds fortunate."

"What worries me is what is driving them, and what they are going to do once they resettle. And after that, the Dalish are getting restless, strange folk crossing the borders, both in and out. This whole business with the mages leaves us short on certain assets, which makes taking even one of them down a challenge."

"How are things faring over here?"

"Right now, archers are in a high demand, air defenses are being brought out of storage." Phyren paused to take a sip of wine. "These are dangerous times we're living in."

Darran chuckled. "You say that as if they weren't dangerous in the first place. Our place in the world has always been rather precarious."

"True, but now...now everyone from the common man to kings are in the same boat as us."

"So, how have things been for you, my friend."

"Business has been good. It took a while to get anywhere, but perseverance paid off in the end. And apart from you, I haven't seen any old friends."

"That's good."

"And what happened to you? What happened to that idyllic life you were living?"

Darran bowed his head over clenched hands.

"They didn't catch up to you, did they?"

"No. This is something entirely different. I would tell you to keep this under wraps, but I fear that doing so may not be an option."

Phyren tensed. "What is happening?"

Taking a deep breath, Darran leaned back in his seat. "We have discovered an organization that has been kidnapping elves en masse. We're headed north to find out where they're hiding."

"Hence why you came to me."

"We're looking at what is liable to be a hidden country. I wouldn't normally ask for help, but we are more than outnumbered here."

Tenting his hands, Phyren stared at the wall in front of him. "I'm sure I can part with some of my soldiers. You can stay here for a few days to rest, if you wish. I will-"

A crash downstairs had everyone reaching for their weapons. Her instincts screaming, Merana eyed everyone in the room. All of them looked as surprised as she was. _Still_... she thought. She rushed to the door when a scream from the other end of the room. Whipping around, Merana saw a cloaked figure leap through the window, driving a knife into a guard's chest.

Darran slung out his axe and buried it in the assailant's shoulder, pulling the man in to snap his neck. As the assassin fell to the floor, two more swung in. Phyren kicked the chair at the closest one and took up the fallen guard's weapon, parrying the other's sword swing. With the element of surprise lost to both parties, the assassins were quick to pressure the elf back, but that was when Merana asserted her presence.

The unfortunate assassin was in the middle of a swing when he realized his hands were no longer attached to his arms, and after that, he felt the sting of metal cutting into his neck.

As the newly beheaded assassin's flopped against the floor, his partner was cornered by Merana, Darran, and Phyren's guards.

"No more reinforcements?" Darran asked mockingly.

The assassin frown turned into a smirk. "We don't need any more."

The earth began to rumble, shifting and rolling. In the chaos, the assassin sprinted past the stumbling guads, blade raised to slash Phyren's neck. Merana closed in, cutting the man off and driving him back. Rather than remain engaged, he kicked her back and made for the window, rolling out into the night.

"Piss." Merana muttered. She hopped out of the window after her enemy, but when she landed in the courtyard, she found it devoid of anyone living. All the guards had already been dispatched, and her target had disappeared.

Feeling the hairs on her neck stand, Merana sniffed the air and swore under her breath. _I know that smell_. Pulling her left sleeve back, she readied her shield for whatever she was going to find on the roof.

Precariously balanced at the point of a nearby tower with a clear view of the city, Julios smiled as a ball of energy gathered in his hands.

"You might want to be indoors for this," He said. "Though I doubt it will help you all that much." Reaching his hands to the sky, a ripple of energy washed upward, causing the clouds to broil with arcane forces. Lightning flashed, striking the city and ripping into buildings. Behind it, an orange glow emanated from the clouds as meteorites streaked across the night sky.


	9. Requiem: Chapter Eight

The people who had been drawn outside from the earthquake were met with a brilliant, but horrifying sight. The conjured missiles rained into the capitol of the Anderfels, shattering the tallest towers and rendered entire swaths of the city into rubble. Fires spread out of control as teams of assassins dashed in and out of shadows, striking anyone who tried to mount a proper response.

Merana could only watch as Julios fell from his perch, gracefully landing in the courtyard in front of her.

"I hope you are enjoying the show." he said. He stood casually, his guard lowered.

"What do you want?" Merana demanded. "Why did you attack this city?"

"I am on a mission, I have been tasked with a noble purpose."

"And what would that be?"

Julios chuckled. "Now that would be telling. But I would not be adverse to discussing it should you cast your lot in with us. All I am asking now is if you want to join us."

Seething at her opponent, Merana held her weapon at the ready, but Julios continued to talk.

"Think about it. You are an elf, one who has carved her own place in the world. But there are those who are not pleased with your bid for freedom, those who would rather see you dead than see you determine your own fate. Why not join the cause of those with similar ambitions?"

Merana lowered her sword. "You know nothing about me. And I've seen what you do. And I can assure you, I will have no part in that. You can take your offer and be purged in holy flames."

"That is unfortunate," Julios sighed. "But I supposed it is to be expected. You were thoroughly indoctrinated after all. I guess the rest of my offers and temptations are meaningless in the face of that."

He turned to walk away, leaving his back completely open. Taking a chance, Merana charged Julios. Whipping around, he deflected her sword strike and lashed out with his armored hand. A flash of blue signaled the shield activating in her defense.

"So you _did_ get it to work." he said, pushing back with a shout of exhilaration. "You are truly one of us if you were able to make it obey your command in such a short time. It is a shame that you rejected my offer."

"Shut up!"

Merana projected a magical suppression field, but her sword still bit at Julios' gauntlets.

Julios laughed as he continued deflecting Merana's attacks. "You didn't think that it would be that easy, did you?"

He led her in circles around the courtyard. Every swing was parried, every strike blocked.

"I can stop holding back if you want." he said mockingly.

At first, Merana had to keep herself from flinching, but then she smiled and charged Julios.

"Should I count that as a 'yes'?"

His boasting was interrupted as he wheeled around to counter Hector's attempt at slicing the back of his neck.

"You don't mind if I cut in, do you?" the swordsman asked.

Julios smirked. "If it pleases you, be my guest. It ultimately changes nothing."

"We'll see about that."

Rolling out of the way, Julios tried to keep both of his opponents on one side. To his amusement, they both did well to prevent that. They worked well in tandem, conserving their energy while forcing him to weather their assaults.

"It's good that neither of you are strangers to fighting." he shouted over the clanging of metal. "Otherwise, I fear this would be quite boring. However, I must be going. So how about a trick before I depart?"

Not waiting for an answer, he slammed his palm against the ground. The surface broke up and split, falling into the cavern below. Though shallow enough, Merana wagered she and Hector would be feeling bruises from the fall. Both of them hid from Julios' view, bracing for a final blow that never came.

"I suppose I will see you before too long." Julios said dismissively. "In the meantime, I'll let you work at climbing out of this pit." Drawing his hands together, the hole closed over with only minimal holes for air.

No longer in the presence of enemies, Hector collapsed to one knee, bracing himself on his sword. Feeling along the walls, Merana searched for a way out. Her eyes helped in most low light situations, but she could not see in near complete darkness. In short order, her hand caught on a fixture. Though relieved, she grunted her disapproval.

"You find anything?" Hector asked, his voice haggard.

"I found a torch, but there's no way to light it."

"Bring it over here."

Merana could hear him fiddling with his pockets.

"Aha!" he said triumphantly. A scratching was heard and sparks flew into the torch, igniting it. Though meager, it gave the two of the a better view of their surroundings. "Now, to get out of here."

Their seach was short, but when they tried the door, it was locked from the outside.

"A lock shouldn't be an issue." Merana said, wedging her blade through the planks of the door. Prying it open, what elation they had to their success faded when they saw the tunnel caved in.

"Now what?"

Sighing, Merana returned to the center of the room. Climbing the rubble, she held the torch to the hastily formed roof. Even without prodding, she could see that it was sturdy. "We wait." She finally said.

"I'll find more torches."

Getting a better look at her surroundings, Merana wagered they had landed in a storeroom for the main house. Sealed barrels were placed along the edges of the room. From the smell, she determined that there was nothing of sustenance to be had. Completing his search, Hector joined her with five more unlit torches.

"How long until you think they'll find us?" Hector asked, resting against a stone slab.

"If we keep talking, and if the surface is irregular enough, before we get too thirsty."

Pulling cloth from his coat, Hector cleaned his sword before a fit of coughing overtook him. He pulled the cloth from his mouth, covered with fresh blood. His blood.

After Hector finished his cleaning ritual, Merana inspected him for any wounds.

"What happened to you?" she asked. "You don't appear to be severely injured."

Grunting, Hector slid to sit down. "The healer said I had at least two more months, but I don't want to wait that long for death to come claim me." Hector said with a chuckle. "So much for being able to heal."

"You're…dying?"

"Yup." Hector replied, rising to his feet and stretching.

"Did you even look for anyone else to help you?"

"No. I'd much rather spend the rest of my days fighting than looking for a way to prolong my life that may or may not exist in the first place."

"A rather bleak outlook if you ask me."

"Not that it really matters. There's no one left alive who really even cares that I existed anyways."

"Is there really no one?"

"My village was more or less wiped out when they decided to oppose the Hero of Ferelden. And I didn't make many friends after I left. Any that are still alive, that is."

"Would you mind telling me about it?"

"Are you sure? It's a bit of a sob story."

"I can hardly imagine what else we could possibly talk about."

"Actually, there's not much to tell in the first place. I was born in the village of Haven and brought up by Andraste cultists. When Jarrod Cousland walked into the city looking for the Ashes of Andraste, everyone attacked, and not one who stood against him survived. With no one else there I left, grabbing a sword and some meager provisions and starting walking the land. Never looked back really."

"Seems like a rather simple story."

"A simple story for a simple life. A short life."

"And that was why you wanted to help us?"

"Yes."

"So you met the Hero of Fereldan?"

"It wasn't much of a meeting. He walked up to me, asked a few questions and what I said tipped him off to some of the other happenings in the village."

"Do you hate him?"

"No. Or at least, not anymore. It took me a few years to come to that conclusion. Especially after I learned of what all else he did."

Merana digested his words.

"Enough about me. Mind telling me about yourself?"

Seating herself opposite of Hector, she gave him a hard look. "Since we're stuck here and you're in a story-sharing mood, I don't see why not."

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to convey the story. "I originally joined the Templars after seeing my older sister taken away and found that my sister had failed her Harrowing. I later learned that my younger sister was discovered to be a mage, but since she was moved to a circle far from my posting, there was no way for me to ever see her."

"One day, I received orders to go and hunt down my little sister, who had run away from the Circle. Since I was an elf in the Order with sisters who were mages, I am certain someone had me brought in order to test my loyalty and dedication."

"As we tracked her down, we began to see more and more destruction left in her wake. Then we started seeing other people besides Templars among the dead. By the time we had caught up with her, the body count was in the hundreds."

"We confronted her in a backwater village, and the moment I saw her, I knew what had happened to her. Afraid for her life, a demon had taken advantage of her fragile state of mind and turned her into an abomination."

"The battle was ferocious. The demon had enthralled all of the villagers and threw them at us while it waited in the back and picked some of us off. By the end of it, it was just me and one other Templar facing the…thing that had been my sister, and after he was severely wounded, I had to finish her off myself."

"It was not the fact that I had to kill her that shook me, but when Kerine hugged me after I had run her through, she thanked me. It was her voice; her words, and not those of an abomination."

"After that, I pretty much gave up all hope of changing things. I tried to be decent to my charges, but I was often reprimanded for being too soft. At some point I stopped caring and began looking for an escape. Of course, it's not easy to leave an order of misguided fanatics. But as soon as the news of the Kirkwall Rebellion broke, it wasn't long before the confusion became so great that I could slip away. I have no idea if they ever sent anyone after me, but I stayed away from major cities regardless, kept moving from place to place. Then I got hired by Darran and now we're hear."

Hector pursed his lips.

"That's quite the tale." he said after a long pause. "Also, you sound different when you're not trying to sound like a Templar. It's actually sort of adorable."

Weathering a stern look from the elf, Hector raised his hands.

"You can forget I said that if you like." he chuckled.

Any further discussion was cut off by a thud against the ground above them. They both cleared area directly underneath, eager for the excavation. A few more impacts and a sizeable hole opened, causing more chunks to fall around the digging. Some shouts of surprise were heard from the diggers before they resumed their work.

"Anyone down there?" Lenli called.

"Yes." Hector answered. "We're down here."

"Is that you Hector?"

"And Merana."

"Oh, good." the dwarf said, relieved. "Darran, there down here."

In short order, Darran's familiar visage peered into the cavern.

"Are the two of you in good health?" he asked.

"That depends." Hector shot back.

Darran looked at the both of them, confused.

"Nothing immediately pressing." Merana added. "Can you get us out of here?"

"Certainly." Darran replied.

A rope was soon lowered into the gap.

"You go first." said Merana.

Hector opened his mouth, either to protest or make a joke, but thought better of it at the last moment. Under better light, Merana realized how dusty the two of them were.

"I suppose those clothes will not be reused." Phyren joked, when he saw Merana pulled from the storeroom.

"I did not really care too much for them in the first place." Merana replied, enjoying a moment of levity. Her expression turned grim, observing the damage and carnage wrought. "What happened during the attack? I was not able to see much, but it seemed grander than a simple assassination attempt."

"After the meteor shower, the intruders began withdrawing. Any attempts to pursue them have fallen flat, as there was no trace left behind. When we were finally able to get things under control, we noticed that you were nowhere to be found and mounted a search party. To our immense gratitude, the search was quite short. I shudder to think what it would have been if you had gone missing outside my estate."

"I am grateful as well. Hector and I had run out of conversation just before you arrived."

Hector let out a laugh. "If you wished, I could have continued talking for much longer than that."

Smirking, Phyren pulled Darran away from the growing verbal spar. "After this, what do you plan to do?" he asked.

"We keep moving forward." Darran replied after a pause. "The fact that they came after us like this means they know we're on their trail."

"I see. How soon do you wish to depart?"

"The sooner we can leave, the better."

"Day after tomorrow, then?" Phyren offered. "After a mess like this, that would be the earliest I could muster an appreciable force to accompany you. And you still need some rest, especially after a scuffle like that."

"We've had worse. As soon as your men are ready, we'll resume our journey."

"I don't know how much it will help you, but good luck. I hope you find Josi and put and stop to all this."

Smoke rose from the buildings around them. For the first time in a long while, Darran found himself admiring the results of such a display of magic. He wondered how anyone could rein or counter such a force. He bit his lip. _This is what Merana dealt with on a regular basis._

"I doubt you'll be able to find us if we fail," Darran said. "But should we fail to return, make sure someone knows what we're dealing with."

"I can't guarantee anyone important will listen to me, but I will see what I can do."

"Just do what you can."

Finding herself with nothing else to do, Merana inspected the corpses of the assassins they had killed. To her utter lack of surprise, all of them were elves. One of them had Dalish tattoos. _Blood writing,_ she corrected herself. The other was thinner and paler. His build was more like a farmer than a soldier. How both of them were able to overpower nearly an entire security detail eluded her.

She supposed that surprise had been a factor, but both had moved as someone with years of training could only move. The main reason their attempt had failed had been because of Merana and Darran. The guards might of lived, but Phyren would have been killed otherwise. Again, the Dalish elf could have pulled of some of those moves, but not plain city elf. Not without years of training. Inevitably, she remembered Aevra and the other inciting figure in the quest.

"Find anything useful?" Hector asked.

"I thought you were supposed to be resting?" Merana replied.

"Got bored. Besides, it's not like I'm trying to dig up the mansion with everyone else."

At Merana's insistence, Hector had been essentially ordered to rest, which no one had objected to, while Darran and Lenli were busy clearing away rubble in order to retrieve their gear. The lack of explosions, to their collective relief, meant that the bombs were undisturbed. When they reached the cavaty that had been their quarters, Merana had quickly changed back into her travel clothes.

"Since you're here, what do you make of this?"

"The Dalish?"

Merana nodded.

"Well, I think he's the first one we've encountered like this. If he's not simply an exile, I have to wonder how these people are capturing clans."

"I was thinking the same."

A long pause passed between them.

Scratching her neck, Merana exhaled sharply. "The biggest question now is how long has this been going on?"

"I suppose we'll have to ask them when we catch them."


	10. Requiem: Chapter Nine

Another morning dawned over Hossberg. Smoke trails marked where fires still smoldered among the ruins left behind. Looking out the window, Merana could see the increased patrols. What few people she had seen before, what little life the streets had held was now absent. Few had even dared to brave the streets since the attack.

"How are things going over here?" Hector asked. His demeanor had improved after a good night's rest, but most everyone else had kept one eye open, and as a result, were somewhat cranky.

"Good morning." Lenli said. "And as to the state of our equipment, I managed to recover everything, or replace everything that I couldn't. It would have been faster if you hadn't let half the stuff get buried."

"I heard the sounds of battle. What would you have expected me to do?"

"What if it had been my pack, idiot? I doubt anyone here would have appreciated being blown to the void because you got distracted."

Hector smirked. "I like to think I have a good instinct in regards to danger. After all, we all remain with our persons intact."

Lenli snorted, muttering something about stupid humans.

"All is well, I take it." Darran said, entering the room with Phyren at his heels.

His question was met with an assortment of nods and confirmations.

"Good. Thanks to Phyren's contacts, we have horses and some extra muscle as we continue north."

"Since you will be here one more night, would you care to join me for dinner? I do recall we were rudely interrupted last time."

"Are the rest of us invited?"

"In the interest of both security and courtesy, yes, you are all invited."

Unlike the night before, the tension could be felt in the atmosphere outside, but the mood around the table was jovial by comparison. For a moment, Merana wondered if the events from the previous night was a bad dream.

* * *

In front of the mansion, the expedition rallied for their journey. Thanks to the efforts of the clearing crews, they had made a path out of the city. The horses were laden with the necessary equipment for a trip north and the men gripping the reins in anticipation.

Phyren emerged from his estate, flanked by servants carrying packages.

"This was left here this morning. I assume someone found out that we were going after the culprits of the attack."

It was not much, but the intent and hidden message were clear.

"Much appreciated." Darran said, accepting the package. The rest was distributed among the other horses.

Merana smiled. All in all, Phyren had proven to be a great asset in their quest, though she was sure to avoid mentioning it to the man's face. Darran, on the other hand, was very focused and stern.

"All set?" he asked. When there was no response he nodded. "Then let's move out."

Taking the road to the northeast, the group made their way to Kassel, Along the way, Merana would discretely glance at the phylactery. The point gradually tilted to the left. By the time they had arrived at their next destination, it pointed in roughly a northwesterly direction

As the group dismounted, the captain issued out orders.

"We have a long journey ahead of us yet. Get some food and rest, and stay sober, men. We need to be away with the dawn."

Receiving disappointed consent, the captain dismissed them.

Looking around, Merana felt a great unease. She could feel eyes on her, though she could not see who was watching. The hair on the back of her neck stood on ends and she could feel the bumps on her arms rising.

There she was again. Her sister was staring at her, a single point of calm a constantly shifting crowd. Merana could not understand how someone covered in so much blood could go unnoticed.

A hand landed on Merana's shoulder, causing her to flinch and wheel around. Seeing Hector's concerned eyes halted any further public disturbance. Looking back at that spot, her sister was gone.

"Are you alright, Merana?" Hector asked.

"Yes." she replied. "I am fine."

* * *

Rising with the crack of dawn, they prepared to ride out.

"Merana, you take the lead." Darran said.

Taking her place at the front of the column, Merana held the phylactery out, just out of sight of their traveling companions. She looked one last time over her shoulder, wondering if should would if she would see it again.

Journeying north carried them across much of the same dreary terrain that made up the Anderfels. Dust storms were becoming more common, becoming more intense and frequently with every passing day. Venturing to the east, they hoped to find some relief offered by the seas.

"What are _they_ doing?" one of the mercenaries asked.

Darran looked in the direction the man was pointing.

"The Dalish riders?" Darran asked. "They have been getting closer than they have in the past, haven't they."

"What do you suppose they're after?" The man asked, who Darran remembered was named Judel.

"Has anyone else had them follow like this?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

Scratching his chin, Darran watched the scouts vanish into a cloud of dust.

"It's going to be dark soon." he said to the captain. "We should set camp before it gets too late."

"As you wish, sir."

While they set up camp, Lenli made her presence known working next to Merana. She began with idle chatter, but when it seemed that there were no-one eavesdropping, she got down to business, taking care to keep her voice low.

"I hate having to say it," she said. "But I think their interest might be with one of us."

"Why would you say that?" Merana asked.

"We've seen them several times since we got to Anderfels, but no one else has seen much of them for the past years."

Merana made a quick check over her shoulder. "You heard that, too?"

"I'm talking about it, so yeah."

"Did Garbune ever have dealings with the Dalish?"

"No, we avoided each other. He could have had some business with them when he was a part of the Circle, but I wouldn't know anything about that."

"I wonder if the phylactery might have been something of theirs."

"No, I saw the schematics he had written up about that. The notation was in his hand."

Racking her brain, Merana perused for any theory that could explain their silent escorts.

"Do you think you had any business with someone who might have taken something from the Dalish?"

"Again, I haven't got any ideas about that."

* * *

"Now that is a sight you don't see every day."

Crossing the lands was a large collection of dragon creatures headed eastward. The drakes stalked on, corralling the younglings into the middle of the formation. Humans marched alongside the beasts without a shred of fear, even as the elder, wingless males snapped at the interlopers. Noting the unwanted presence, a group of humans broke off to confront them.

"Stay sharp."

"Let me handle this."

The leader was muscular, but thin, standing in such a manner that even though he was shorter, looked down on them. His skin was marked with burns, long since healed, but no less noticeable. His vestments looked like mixture of warrior and priest.

"Hail, travelers." He said. "I am Ven."

"Greetings, Master Ven. I am Hector. What brings you and yours out this far from the mountain homes?"

"A gathering has been called. Such has not happened since mortals thought to count the days." Pausing, Ven gave Hector an appraising glance. "Why does a brother travel with such heathens?"

Hector grimaced. "My clan was destroyed long ago."

"What waylays you now, child? Certainly there is nothing keeping you at this time."

"At this time, I am accompanying these people on a quest."

"That...is a shame. Should your mind change, we would welcome you with open arms. However, do not tarry too long, for the door is soon closing."

Overhead, a number of females swooped around, circling the formation before continuing on. Two of them were substantially larger compared to their kin. They gave those below irritated glares, but otherwise left everyone alone.

"What is your purpose?"

"Would that you become one of us, then it will be seen that you are properly instructed. Until then, you are all considered outsiders."

Giving his impromptu audience a quick smirk, Ven led his band back to the heard as it was disappearing behind a dune. Stopping at the next crest, he turned to look back. "Repent, and you may yet be spared. No matter what else, the end will come!" With a last shout, he followed his people out of view.

Left with the trails of dozens of dragons and their followers, the expedition rallied together. Most were quickly abuzz with talk of the odd crossing. Darran did not bother picking out the individual discussions, zeroing in on Hector as he talked with Merana.

"Who were those people?" Merana asked. "And why did they keep referring to you as brother?"

"You remember my village right?" Hector replied.

"The one that was wiped out by the Hero of Fereldan? Yes."

"Well, they were dragon cultists. I never had the opportunity to go through the final ritual because of my age, but I still had more than a few generations of my ancestors that did. I guess it enough passed on to me."

"Never thought I'd see one of their kind in my lifetime."

"I thought most dragon cultists kept themselves in isolation." Darran pondered aloud. "What are they doing wandering out in the open?"

"Something about a gathering." Hector replied. "I don't like all that 'end of the world' talk he was going about."

"Probably full of it anyways."

"What's this about the Hero of Fereldan wiping out a village?"

The other mercenaries took notice of the conversation.

"I always thought he was a paragon of justice and whatnot." One said.

"He is." Hector replied. "It's just that everyone attacked him. They were difficult people."

"Was."

"Hm?"

"The Hero's been missing for a few years now. Cousin of mine got asked about him, but not even whisper to had on his whereabouts."

"I heard he was seduced by a witch and kidnapped," one piped.

"No, he's just travelling for the Wardens," said another.

"Then why don't they know where he is?" He his friend replied. "It's not like he can hide very well."

"Maybe he's on a secret mission." Another offered.

Another round of debate erupted, but the discussion soon turned back to what they had just seen.

"Two of those were high dragons!" a guard shrieked.

Watching as the mercenaries made themselves look silly, Merana approached Hector with her own thoughts on the matter.

"I thought these people preferred isolation." She wondered aloud. "Namely in the mountains."

"Normally, yes. Granted, my knowledge is quite limited, but I have never heard of any gathering ever happening. I never heard of any other conclave even communicating with one another, much less any legends of a gathering that necessitating a mass migration."

Merana frowned as she looked in the direction Ven and his people had gone.

* * *

Arriving in Tallo, Merana gave the phylactery another discrete glance. The point had traveled to a north-westerly direction. It would not be long before the would have to head straight for their objective instead of skirting around the northern wastes.

Darran and Captain Wergotte went about their routine of finding lodging and reminding the mercenaries and other followers not to get too drunk.

Merana scooted into the bar and was beginning to order a drink when her sister sat next to her.

Leaping from her stool, Merana glared at the phantom.

"Stop bothering me." she barked.

Seeing the eyes following her, she quickly vacated the room.

Slipping out of sight, she pulled out a vial of lyrium, gulping down the contents as quickly as possible. Feeling the buzz fade, she slouched against the wall. "I'm too young to be seeing that sort of thing."

"What sort of things?" Hector asked.

Merana jumped, hastily stowing away the empty bottle.

"You really need to stop doing that." she growled.

"Apparently. What's troubling you?"

Sighing, Merana scooted back up. "I'm seeing things. Things that I know aren't there."

"I take it that this isn't a normal occurrence for someone in your position."

"Templars use this in order to use our powers, or so I heard. I wouldn't be the first to suspect that we're started on it just to keep us in line." Holding the vial out, she looked at the traces of liquid gold. "Anyways, one of the side-effects is hallucinations. Though, typically that isn't until later in a Templar's life."

"I think that may be less to do with you being a Templar and more with you being filled with regrets."

"I don't really have a shortage of those."

"I know. I'm all too familiar with that. It makes it easy to see it in others."

Merana looked up at Hector. "Do you think about the people from your home?"

"All the time."

"How do you deal with it?"

"You learn to accept it."

"That sounds too easy."

"The simplest solutions typically are. The hard part about them is getting yourself to go through with it."

Pulling out the empty bottle, Merana ran her finger along the side. Hector patted her on the shoulder and offered his hand to help her back to her feet.


	11. Requiem: Chapter Ten

Even in her time as a Templar, Merana had never been able to sleep very well. Being on the run hadn't helped, and being chased by a nebulous group had made things worse. When she woke up about an hour before dawn, she got up and ready.

Descending back into the dining area, she found it nearly empty. Other, more nocturnal people were milling about. Some guards were present as well, keeping an eye on the owners possessions.

Merana gave them a quick acknowledging nod and stepped onto the porch for some morning air. Pacing on the porch, she took deep, steady breaths to calm herself. The exercise was rendered moot when she found a carving on the posts. Having a vague recollection of the Elvish language, she was able to identify the markings, even if she could not determine the meaning of them.

Rushing back into the building, she approached the guards.

"Did you see anyone come up here in the night?" she frantically asked.

"No."

Holding back a curse, Merana ran upstairs into Darran's room, not flinching when he pulled a knife from under his pillow. Seeing who had disturbed his rest, he relaxed and sheathed the blade.

"What is it?" he groggily asked.

"We have a problem." She said.

"There are plenty of things that have given us cause for concern. You might want to be more specific."

"Some elves snuck up last night and marked the building. I couldn't understand what they wrote, but nobody downstairs saw them come or go."

"You think it was the Dalish?"

"It would be too much of a coincidence for the inn we're staying at to be marked the same night we arrive."

Darran ran his hands through his hair. "Surely there could be other reasons."

"The Alienage here was hit some time ago." Hector said, walking into the room. "If there were any elves in the city, I can't imagine them hitting a random inn."

With a sigh, Darran stood up. "I will speak with the captain and get us ready to depart."

As the two men left, Merana's gaze was captivated by a figure standing on the roof of the adjacent building. He wore a heavy looking cloak that covered his ankles and billowed in the wind. Straining her eyes, Merana thought she could see a faint orange glow under the cover of his hood.

"Merana?" Hector called from the door. "You alright in there?"

Merana glanced over her shoulder.

"I'm fine." She replied.

In the moment that Merana took to look away, the figure had disappeared.

Frowning, she went downstairs to join the others.

* * *

Taking her place at the front of the formation, Merana took out the phylactery and conferred with Darran.

"I think we have done enough skirting." Merana said. "Do you think we can manage a straight shot?"

Darran nodded. "At this point, I think we will have avoid the worst of the wastes."

As Darran and captain relayed the message to the rest of the company, Merana took up the reins to her horse and guided him in the direction the phylactery.

The days passed as they traversed dune after dune. Water consumption was carefully paced. Before the week had come to a close, a mountain began creeping up the horizon.

"That's the western wall of Tallo's Eye." the captain announced.

"It's so quiet out here." Judel said. "Not a sight nor sound of bird for days."

Frowning, Darran rode up alongside Merana.

"How does it look?" he asked.

"We are close." Merana said, looking at the phylactery.

"Hmm..."

"Do you think they're in Tallo's Eye?"

"I can't see how they could hide that well. It's not like the location is unknown. Even as big as the basin is, the floor is flat as can be."

"We have seen them sink small settlements, and that is just one or a dozen of them. Is it so much a stretch that a city of them could possess the means to hide themselves in a deserted plain?"

"But how would they do that?"

"I have no idea. But there a few ways of finding out." Turning around she found Captain Wergotte. "What is the closest entrance into Tallo's Eye?"

"About a day's march, I'd wager." he replied. "What do you have in mind?"

"I think we might be able to eliminate some potential hiding spots."

The depression in the center was barren of anything that might have resembled a fortress or city.

"There's nothing here." Judel muttered.

"Hector, follow me." Merana said, riding in front of the group. "The rest of you, wait here for a minute."

Dismounting, she handed her reins to Hector and walked a bit further. She began pulsing her powers. Even though it would be nothing close to being able to unveil everything in sight, she had hoped that she would dispel any illusions in the immediate vicinity.

"If that's the most you can do at a time, it will take years before we find anything."

Merana pulled out the phylactery again, which now glowed even brighter.

"That won't be necessary."

"Then what was that about?"

"Working out a theory. We follow the phylactery as before, but now I have to periodically to make sure we aren't tangled in some sort of illusion. Were the horses affected?"

"A bit antsy, but otherwise no."

"Good. Signal the others forward."

* * *

Marching across the plains, Merana slowly led the everyone forward, pulsing at irregular intervals. At first the others were tense, but decided to ignore it. As sun began to set, Merana signaled the others to stop. The point on the phylactery had shifted back into the direction they had come.

"They are underneath us." Merana declared.

"Like dwarves?" Lenli asked.

"Of course!" Hector said, smacking his head against his forehead. "There were rumors going around that someone had found an underground elven city in the Brecilian forest."

Wergotte pinched the side of his mouth with his teeth. "Then we need to find a way down."

Lenli looked pleased. "Look for caves around the base of the walls. Maybe we'll get lucky."

"How are we going to find anything over such a large place?" Judel asked.

"We'll make camp under the cover of the mountains and work out something along the way."

To everyone's gratitude, they had not traveled far into the Eye and the easily found a place to camp for the night.

"I'll take first watch." Merana offered.

One of the mercenaries stepped forward. "Hold up," he said. "I'm not inclined to leave our guard to a lone elf."

"I was just about to asked for more volunteers." said Wergotte "I'm glad you're offering to help, Morren."

Morren tried to hide his disappointment, but let off all his gear save for his weapons and stalked to the southern edge of camp.

As Merana left to find her own place to take watch, Hector sauntered behind her.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked.

Thinking for a moment, Merana inclined her head to a vantage point, allowing Hector to fall in behind her.

As the sun disappeared over the horizon, the clouds and moonlight played with the scenery below them. Merana made around her perimeter of the camp when she saw the cloaked figure, perched on a cliff that would have been impossible to climb for any normal person.

"Do you see that, Hector?" Merana asked.

"What?"

"That man over on the rocks." She pointed at the figure, who was staring back at her, shaking his head.

"I don't know what you're seeing." Hector replied. "Do you think it was like before? With your sister I mean."

"No." Merana replied, shaking her head. "Hard as it was, I could at least figure out if it was an hallucination or not. This...it's like he's physically there, but it doesn't seem like anyone else can see him."

Hector scratched at his facial hair. "All sorts of strange happenings these days." he said. "Best not-" The man's ears suddenly perked up. "Do you hear that?"

"What?" Merana asked.

Jumping to his feet, Hector drew his sword out, sniffing the air.

"We have company." he said.

Both of them surveyed the area around them. A shuffling of feet approached their position.

"I can't see much in this light." Hector asked. "How about you? Do you see anything?"

"Not yet."

A wet cough had both of them wheel around to see a shadow ambling towards them.

"Who goes there?" Merana commanded, sword in hand.

The figure stumbled into view, hand held to his slashed throat. Getting a better look, Merana recognized him as Morren. The slashes and stab wounds that dotted his body bled profusely and his eye had swollen shut. Seeing Morren tumble to the ground, Hector and Merana cautiously approached the man as his wheezing breaths slowly tapered off.

"Alert the camp."

Within minutes, Darran and Wergotte were examining Morren's corpse.

"How did they get so close?" Wergotte asked.

"The lighting has been rather irregular this evening." Merana replied.

Darran drummed his fingers against his lips. "How did he end up across the camp without alerting anyone?"

"He might have been pacing around the southern perimeter when he got jumped. We found him when he approached from the eastern side."

Looking over the body, Darran focused on the hilt sticking out of Morren's back.

"This blade..." he said, gingerly pinching the hilt with his fingers, Darran chanced a more firm grip and pulled the blade out.

"I should have done that." Merana said disapprovingly.

"There was no danger to be had from this." Darran said, inspecting the weapon. "You of all people should be able to recognize the hum of active magic. Now give me some space, please."

The odd geometric angles gave the blade a hexagonal shape. Along its matte black surface, faint bluish-sliver lines traced to the hilt. Blood had caked onto the surface, blackened as if it had been set out in the sun days ago.

"You're telling me that magic did that?" Wergotte blanched.

"I've seen some things like this in Tevinter," Darran answered. "But never anything this advanced. I can't even see any runes. Care to have a look, Lenli?"

The dwarf plucked the blade out of Darran's hand.

"I'm not much good at weapons crafting," Lenli said. "Or runes for that matter, but I'll have a look at it."

"But aren't you a dwarf?" Judel asked

"Even exiled, I worked as a miner. You'd need a proper smith if you want some solid answers." The dwarf found a rock to sit on, muttering things about ancestors and idiots. Morren's friends pulled him off to bury and the rest of company dispersed, leaving Darran, Hector, and Merana to conferred with one another.

"Do you think..." Hector trailed off.

"The enemy is close." Darran said. "That's all anyone needs to know for now. We already have enough problems as it is."

The rest of the day was spent searching for caves, most of which turned out to be dead-ends, even when Merana had a chance to look at them. The next night, everyone shared in Merana's disposition on sleep. When morning come, one of their number had gone missing.

"Where's Liran?" Wergotte asked

"He went off or a leak last night." one replied.

"Did you see him come back?"

The man shrugged.

Continuing their search, the found Liran's desiccated corpse pinned to a rock, dried blood smeared on the surfaces around him.

"Charming." Hector said, grimacing.

"Get him down from there." Wergotte barked.

"This is more than a freak occurrence." Lenli said.

Away from the discussion, Merana looked up to the cliffs where her follower was now standing. Even without seeing his face, she could feeling the grimness about him, the he stood with his arms crossed, always standing like an ever-present sentinel. Once again, no one noticed his presence, so Merana did not deign to tell anyone else.


	12. Requiem: Chapter Eleven

The trend of find men missing persisted. Each day, someone, either a guard or someone who happened to be close to the edge of camp, would be missing. When they began their search, they would find the desiccated corpse along the way, mangled nearly to the point of being unrecognizable. Out of a company of fifty-eight, forty-five remained.

"They're leading us somewhere." Merana whispered.

"Of course they are." Lenli replied. "I thought that much was obvious."

"No, I mean somewhere specific."

"An ambush? Because that wouldn't be surprising at all with all the luck we've had." Th dwarf paused to look at her friend. "Oh, come on. Don't give me that look. Besides, were still keeping up our normal search."

"If they can sneak up on us and abduct one of us at night, they could simply wipe us all out in one fell swoop. As it stands, we're being attacked at night without anyone ever seeing the perpetrators."

"Maybe Darran will pick up a clue."

"I certainly hope so. I'm not certain how much longer we can hold out like this."

* * *

When the others had gone to sleep, Merana remained wide awake, listening and trying to remain as still as possible in hopes that she could catch the culprit. A couple times she thought she had heard them come through, but she waited until she knew what to listen for.

Like ghosts, they approached, breath virtually silent. Their steps were soft. Regardless, Merana had attuned herself to their presence. When they got close enough, she flared her powers and jumped to her feet.

Everyone in the camp woke up with a start, hands at their weapons as they leaped to their feet. Standing just at the edge of the camp was a trio of elves, their armor identical to the ones they had fought in Clovasi. One reached for a pocket, but Lenli shot the item from his hands before he could use it.

Seeing the response to their presence, the elves began to withdraw, cutting down as many as they could as they were overwhelmed. One scrambled out of the mob, only to run into Hector.

With a quick series of slashes, the enemy was disabled and subdued.

The mercenaries were busy mauling the other two elves when Wergotte shouted about the din.

"Stand down! Break it up, break it up."

With some deliberation, the men backed off the mangled corpses, all of them brandishing their weapons in the anticipation of having more targets to vent their rage on.

"They deserved it." Judel said, spitting on the nearest corpse.

"It's a good thing you didn't killed all of them, we wouldn't be able to question them." Looking at the disabled enemy combatant, he pointed to his men. "You two, get the prisoner out someplace out of sight. Make sure he doesn't try anything."

Merana walked up to Darran, whose face had become an impassive mask.

"They'll know we've dealt with them." he said. "How soon do you think they'll send a follow-up?"

"Since we haven't seen a follow-up attack yet," Merana replied. "Either they're still waiting for something, or their backup is nowhere close by. I would say about midday, depending on-"

"That should be enough."

Darran walked after the prisoner and his guard detail with a look in his eyes that Merana had not seen before.

Shrugging off her misgivings, she walked to were the elves had fallen. Spotting a glint in the moonlight, she picked up the mirror from the dirt. Dusting off the trinket, she observed the cracks in the device that had rendered it inoperable. The weight and textures felt wrong. Even if it was not tainted outright, it still had an unnatural sensation around it.

Pocketing the mirror, she looked for the captain.

"How many did we lose here?" She asked.

"Nine killed outright." Wergotte answered. "Another six wounded, one of which is severe. Add that to the thirteen we lost from before, we're down to half our original strength."

"How well do you think your men are at this point?"

"They're tough, but I think we've bitten off more than we can chew."

Watching the fire dance before her eyes, Merana nearly flinched when Hector called out to her.

"Merana, over here."

Jumping to her feet, she ran to catch up to Hector. Despite his casual attitude, the man seemed somewhat stiff, bracing for an impending attack.

"How is the prisoner?" Merana asked.

"He's been surprisingly cooperative," Hector replied. "Relatively speaking."

"So what do you need me for?"

"He says he'll only talk to you."

Before she could asked anything else, she was ushered into the cave where they had stowed the prisoner.

The elf had been relieved of his weapons and armor. Unlike the elves that they had fought in Nordbotten, this one was highly muscular, the build of a consummate warrior. Despite the bruises on his face, he smiled widely as he saw Merana enter.

"Ah, so this is-" he began to say, but Darran quickly cut him off.

"You said you would speak with her. She's here. Now talk, without going on rabbit-trails."

The prisoner muttered something in elvish before directing his attention to Merana.

"I see you've been looking pretty extensively for us." he said. "If you want, I could tell you how to find what you're looking for."

"How would we know you're telling us the truth?" Merana asked. "And why would you do that in the first place?"

"I have my reasons. More importantly, you have your reasons, and I want to see how far you can go. You see, you're pretty much walking into a city, full of fanatical soldiers willing to die for the cause."

"And you're not fanatical?"

"I am...in my own way."

Stepping away from the prisoner, Merana noticed Darran and Hector conversing with each other.

"What are we going to do?" Hector asked.

"I knew we were going into the thick of things, but this..." Darran trailed off. "And without the element of surprise, we're going to need to bring an army with us."

"There isn't any time to waste if you want to save those we have conscripted." The prisoner said. Seeing everyone stare at him, he smiled again. "That's why I'm here. You are running short on time, and I'm tired of watching you idiots wander around like you have been. You would have missed the entrance anyways."

"Will you lead us there?" Merana asked.

"Since you asked so nicely." Standing up, the bindings on the prisoner fell off of him. "But only if we leave now."

Ignoring the weapons pointed in his direction, he walked out of the cave.

"Are we doing this?" Hector asked.

Merana exhaled sharply. "Either we follow him and walk into a trap or we wait for them to pick us all off."

The three of them jogged to catch up to the elf, who was walking at a steady pace. Wergotte quickly conferred with Darran and went to bark off some orders. Lenli caught up to them, puffing in their wake.

Part of their band broke camp and would follow as soon as they were able. The rest, however, followed the enigmatic elf warily, ready to strike him down the moment he tried anything. All along their hike, a smug grin was plastered on the prisoner's face.

"Here we are." he said, suddenly coming to a stop.

He directed them to an unassuming cave, almost indistinguishable from any other they had searched before. Its length was enough to afford them decent cover from the elements and ample shade, but until their guide reached the end of the cave, there was nothing that indicated that it played home anything more than some wildlife in the past.

Wergotte rested his blade on the elf's neck.

"You better not be playing any games." the captain growled.

With a loud clang, the doors yielded to their presence, allowing them to enter.

"Here we are." the captured elf said, glancing at his captors.

An ominous presence wafted from the opening. The oppressive black seemed to swallow the torchlight and even Merana's vision struggled to pierce its veil.

"I don't like this." Judel said.

"Then don't follow us." Darran answered.

Judel opened his mouth then quickly shut it as Wergotte took him aside.

"You stay here with the wounded and any who wish to remain here. Hold the entrance while we're down there. Also, send two men back to Tallo and send word back to Nordbotten."

Inclining his head, Judel turned to leave, yanking the prisoner along after him.

"Any of you who wish to remain here, follow Judel. I am leaving him in charge while I'm gone."

The prisoner laughed as he was led away.

"Just remember that the door only opens to the People." he said. "Keep Merana close."

Giving one last glance over her shoulder, Merana saw as the cloaked man turned and walked into the plains, his cloak now ignoring the elements around him. The grim aura he was emanating was replaced with one of sorrow.

Turning back to the door, Merana stepped passed the thirteen that returned to that mouth of the cave, pressing through the threshold.

The tunnel wound and spiraled as it led deeper into the ground, becoming more solid and defined the further it went until they reached another set of doors.

"Well." Lenli said. "If I were going to place a bet, I'd wager that this is a back entrance, or something pretty close to it."

"What do we-?" Wergotte began to ask when the doors opened.

The ceiling of the cavern had an eerie glow to it, not entirely unlike moonlight, but it felt so unnatural it was almost nauseating at first.

Covering every square inch of the cavern floor was an immense city made up of buildings hewn from stone. The dark structures felt alien, angled and shaped in roughly the same uniform geometric form and exuded an intimidating presence.

The city was layered and tiered, with only a few buildings stretching over the others, but easily dwarfed their neighbors. One in particular tower in the center of the cavern stretched all of the way to the cavern ceiling with the same ghastly lights illuminating its entire length.

"We'll split up here." Wergotte said. "Our movements are less likely to be detected."

Darran's eyes flicked over to the captain, but no other sign of emotion was on his face.

"Where will we meet?" Darran asked.

The captain searched the cityscape below them. "How about that square? If not, find the tallest structure and we'll rejoin you there. Some of my men will accompany you."

Descending in the first few layers, everyone looked around nervously, agitated by the eerie sound of wind gently blowing around the vacant houses.

"Is there anyone even here?" Lenli whispered, as she placed another explosive.

Answering her question, she was dragged behind a corner by Darran as a squad of elven soldier rushed past their street.

Merana looked at Darran. "Do you think they know we are here?"

"I wouldn't be surprised." He answered. "Actually, I'm surprised they didn't turn down this way instead."

"Let's keep going, then." Hector whispered. "The longer we stay here, the more likely we'll be noticed."

"I doubt we'll find anyone else around here." Lenli stated. "All these buildings are empty."

Merana looked around. "They already know we are here."

"Then we'll be extra cautious." Hector whispered. "We don't know when we'll be walking into a trap."

"That is if we have not done so already."

A series of shouts echoed in the cavern, prompting the four of them to take cover. When they were certain they had not been spotted, they crept towards the edge of the tier.

As the voices grew louder, they found themselves overlooking a courtyard with four ranks of elves lined up in the center with roughly twenty in each line, and a number of guards posted in and around the grounds, as well as a line of seven conscripts standing across from the main group.

One elf in particular was pacing back in forth in front of them, his head uncovered, showing his platinum blond hair and white eyes that looked over the crowd with cold fury.

"Welcome to all of you who have just joined us. I am your Overseer." The elf said enigmatically. "A glorious time is upon us, but you are not citizens yet. You have been conscripted. You must earn your place, as else everyone of Arladurgen has done before you."

The conscripts shifted uneasily at the Overseer's words.

"Those that stand here before you are those who have shunned our generosity, betrayed our trust."

As he was about to continue his speech, one of the other conscripts spoke out. "You claim to be for the elves, but all I've seen is the same brutality that the shems practice on a regular basis. Probably even worse."

The elf stepped forward past the Overseer, who beckoned his men to hold stay their weapons while the elf pleaded with the other conscripts. "These people don't care about us. They only-"

Like a spring trap, the Overseer's arm latched on to the elf, dragging him to meet his kneecap. As the conscript struggled to rise, a boot slammed down onto his back, spattering blood across the floor when his victim coughed.

"Grovel at my feet!" the Overseer growled. His voice echoing through the cavern, the Overseer stooped down, whispering into the man's ear. "Is it so hard for you to bow? You did it well enough for your human masters."

"Why should I-oof!"

The Overseer glared as the groaning elf rolled away from a punch to the stomach.

"All bow to a force above them. It is a law of nature. You are no different."

The man coughed up a puddle of blood next to the Overseer's boot, receiving a kick to the ribs for his transgression.

"Your past record still holds some hope for your future. Do not make me regret sparing you." The Overseer turned to the guards and shouted. "Take him away!"

Some of the other conscripts shuffled nervously as the beaten conscript was dragged away.

One of the women, nearly blubbering, spoke up. "Where are all of those too young to participate? Where have you put them?"

The Overseer clenched his fist and turned to the woman. "I thought I made it clear that I do not care to be interrupted, especially multiple times in a row. Were you not paying attention or are you brain-damaged."

"I haven't seen them since I arrived;" the woman said, not grasping the situation. "Where are they?"

"You are concerned for you children?" The Overseer asked with mock concern.

The woman sheepishly nodded, foolishly accepting his falsified sympathy, only to receive a punch to the face that sent her sliding several feet along the floor. The other five convicted conscripts did not flinch.

"How many times must I pound this lesson into your skulls?!" The Overseer screamed, punctuating nearly every other word with another kick to the helpless woman. "You speak when spoken to, and not a moment sooner!"

When he had finished, the woman's face hardly seemed recognizable after the repeated impacts of an armored foot.

"Your children will earn their keep until they are old enough. Perhaps they will understand this lesson better than you did."

Waving a dismissive hand, two guards came and checked for a pulse, dragging her off when they found none.

"Let this be a warning to your peers: we are forgiving, but our mercy is not infinite." The Overseer said, his voice recomposed into an icy tone once more. "Does anyone else wish to voice their concerns?"

Everyone stood up straighter, staring ahead at the blank wall in front of them.

"Excellent." the Overseer said, turning to another soldier. "Take this group to the education center. And give me a moment before you bring the next group in."

The infiltrators watched as the conscripts were led off.

"We have to find those people now." Merana said.

* * *

The moon shone down on the group of mercenaries that sat outside the entrance tunnel of the mountain.

"Are you sure it's good for us to be out here?" one asked.

One of the older mercenaries took a swig from his bottle and looked at the cloudless sky. "They need someone to watch their backs in case these elves have anything else coming to back them up."

"But will there be anyone coming?" Judel asked. "They're pretty isolated out here."

"Maybe once you've spent a couple more years working this life, you won't find the need to question of why you get paid."

None of the mercenaries noticed when the elves sprung from their hiding spots to ambush them.

* * *

Moving quickly and quietly through the streets, Merana scouted ahead of the others.

"About time you all showed up." A voice said from above.

The infiltrators took cover, looking for the source of the voice. Looking up, they found Julios sitting on the edge of one of the buildings, resting his chin on his left fist.

"Such an interesting group you've brought; a renegade Templar, an exile of exiles, a wandering swordsman, a former slave-catcher who is trying to hide from his past, and...whatever the rest of you are."

Darran narrowed his eyes at the elven warrior.

"Your wife told me all about your work in Tevinter, Darran. Or should I say, Tracer."

Merana only caught Darran's reaction through her peripheral, but the man was visibly tense, clenching his jaw tightly, though she could not tell whether it was the mention of his wife or being referred to by his old name that set him on edge.

Julios smirked, pleased with the reaction, and continued talking.

"How many of those slaves grew to fear you? All of those who spent days, weeks running from you as you hunted them down like animals?"

"I left that life behind a long time ago."

"Yes, you grew a conscious and tried to bury your past actions. Quite well, in fact. Almost too well, don't you think?" Julios mused to himself.

"What?"

"Do you ever wonder how easy it was. Perhaps it was because you lacked empathy, or maybe because your precious Josi made sure that you buried that part of you." He paused momentarily to stop an arrow mid-flight. "Excuse me. Where are you manners? Where was I? Oh, yes. You didn't honestly believe you can be instantly forgiven from crimes like by running away, especially after how long you lingered like a shadow to all of those slaves you hunted, the pleasure you experience. Why else do you think she stayed with you?"

"Shut up!"

"She was manipulating you the whole time, just to make sure you never went back and brought their former masters on their heads."

"That's enough." Merana declared, stepping out of her cover.

"You continue to bring me sorrow, Merana Seriat." Julios said with a sigh. "It is a great tragedy that I have to kill you. Too hung up on your past."

"Not before I kill you."

"We'll see." Julios replied with a bemused look on his face. "I won't insult your determination by extending my offer a second time."

As Julios withdrew to a better vantage point, what looked to be around two dozen armored elves revealed themselves on the rooftops, staring down at the intruders through obscuring visors of their masks. Another wore more distinguishing armor and carried a poleaxe in her right hand and an oppressive gaze behind her visor.

"Have fun dealing with these new recruits we just finished training."

At those words, the soldiers jumped down and engaged the intruders.


	13. Requiem: Chapter Twelve

The enemy combatants fell on them as one, drawing their weapons in crisp motions in an eerie synchronization. Lenli landed the first shot, but her crossbow bolt glanced off her target's armor who knocked her crossbow out of her hands as soon as he landed.

Seeing his ally in a bind, Hector decapitated the dwarf's opponent, parrying another strike from behind with the same stroke.

"Thanks." Lenli said, scooping up her weapon. She edged away from the bulk of the fighting and resumed firing.

Merana hesitated as the first two approached her. If these were the new recruits, they had been twisted or convinced to fight them, and they were not holding back. As much as she hated it, she was going to have to kill them if she hoped to save any others.

Dropping to her knee, she deactivated her shield while two of her attackers moved to tackle her. When they were close enough, she opened the shield once more, bifurcating her two opponents.

Rising to her feet again, one of the soldiers singled her out, swinging her two swords around wildly. Despite Merana's experience, she felt hard-pressed to counter and block every swing. The warrior practically predicted every move she made before she could make one and was still testing her for openings in her defenses.

Bashing her opponent with her shield, one of the swords was knocked from the other elf's hand, but the distraction was brief and the elf rushed at her again.

A faint glow pulsed along the elf's blade's edge. When the blade made contact with Merana's shield, a blast of fire knocked her back. Shaking her head, Merana brought her shield up in time to block the successive strike, watching as the shield shimmered under the arcane force.

Sweeping her legs under the target, Merana saw her opponent leap several feet into the air before slamming back into the ground, cracking the ground where the Templar had been a moment before.

The elf spun around, lashing out with her sword and firing a bolt of lightning from the tip, making Merana's shield flicker momentarily when it was struck.

 _Where's Wergotte?_ Merana thought.

* * *

Darran parried another thrust from who he could only guess was an officer of sort, or a sergeant. The woman's poleaxe had him at a disadvantage in regards to reach, but was fairly readable until a gust of air cut past his head.

The sergeant spun her weapon around her torso, charging a spell, a ball of lightning, to accompany the next swing. Her movements were sharp, but gracefully flowed into each other in a never-ending chain of attacks. Even without the salvo of spells being thrown out, her movements and defensive techniques were holding him at bay.

Feeling the enemy's blade graze his shoulder, Darran swore under his breath and ducked under a blunt swing at his head. As the sergeant pulled her weapon back, Darran tackled her, but instead of knocking her off-balance, she held her stance and rolled the man off to the side, bringing her poleaxe to bear once more, an orb of orange glowing at the tip.

"Heads up!" Lenli shouted.

Cancelling the spell, the sergeant launched herself into the air. Seconds later, an explosion knocked everyone off balance.

Recovering first, Merana saw Lenli laying on her side, crossbow still in hand and a spattering of singed remains carpeting the ground in front of her.

Shaking off the disorientation, Merana's hearing returned in time for her to hear a loud war cry as her foe leaped into the air, sweeping her sword down on Merana.

Blocking the sword with the shield, Merana ran her sword through her the elf's armor. The weight of the armored person carried forward, shoving Merana backwards, nearly knocking her off her feet and driving the blade through to the hilt. Still defiant, the elf raised her blade for a final, spiteful blow.

Pulsing her powers, Merana twisted her sword as her opponent's harmless glanced against her shoulder. No longer able to remain standing, the other elf relaxed.

"I knew you'd come for me." a little voice said.

Merana looked at the helmet where the voice had come from in horror as it retracted, revealing Aevra's face. She looked thinner and paler than before, with some fading bruises dotting her skin.

As Darran and Hector finished their opponents, Lenli scanned the rooftops for Julios, but he was nowhere to be found.

"That's what I kept telling them." Aevra said with a weak smile. "But they didn't like that and hit me, and jabbed me with needles."

"I'm sorry." Merana said, holding back tears. "I came here to rescue you, but I did this."

"Don't feel bad, Mer. I'm just glad you came while I could still go back to my own... mind…"

As Aevra slumped against the Templar, Merana eased her to the ground.

While Merana wept over Aevra's lifeless body, Hector found one of the soldiers struggling on the ground. With one arm, he grabbed the elf by the collar and dragged slammed against the nearest building.

"Where did your boss just go?" Hector growled, pressing the elf against the wall.

"Do you see the tower over there?" he replied, pointing to largest tower. "That is the education center. That is where you will want to go, but none of you are going to make it out of there-"

A quick slash to the elf's throat silenced whatever threats he had prepared to voice.

"We need to go, Merana." said Darran.

"I know." Merana replied, wiping away the tears from her eyes.

Gathering herself, Merana gave the girl's corpse one last glance. She looked peaceful, just like Kerine had all of those years ago.

One of the surviving mercenaries, leaned against a nearby wall, his arm dangling at an awkward angle.

"I guess I'm not claiming that pay anytime soon." He grunted. "Ahlfie, you're taking every able-bodied soldier and taking them onward."

"What about you?"

"I'll stay back with the wounded. We'll be slowing you down."

"But-"

"Yes, I don't have any doubt what we have in store for us. Just finish the mission."

Darran gave the man a pointed look.

"What about Wergotte?"

"If he isn't here now, I doubt he'll make it in time before we're overrun."

"Get a move on!"

Nodding, Darran turned to Merana, who was still kneeling next to Aevra's body.

"Merana."

"I can't remove my guilt from this, Aevra," Merana said, standing to her feet. "But neither can I shoulder all of the blame myself." Looking to her friends, they began navigating the city, keeping the Education Center in front of them.

* * *

Wergotte gasped as the last of his life ebbed from his body. All around him, his men were dead and dying. They had never gotten close to their rendezvous with the others.

Wheezing, the captain grasped the gaping breach in his armor. He had been too busy dealing with the small-fry that he had not seen their commander come blasting through. He had not even gotten a good look at him, as by the time he was aware that he had been hit, his assailant had already moved on, leaving what few men he had little more than greasy smears on the walls and the cavern floor.

* * *

Merana was sprinting at the front of the formation. Her attention was dedicated to the tallest structure in the city. The Education Center stretched from the cavern floor to the ceiling. Compared against the other buildings they had seen, as large as some of them had been, the spire was massive, and even though it looked slender, its width gave her a better estimation of the cavern's height.

Despite the sporadic attacks, they quickly approached their target.

"Where is everyone?" Lenli asked between breaths. "Surely they couldn't have hidden _everyone_ out for us."

Hector eyed the alleyways.

"I can make a guess where the bulk of the enemy forces are." the swordsman said.

"Ahead of us." Darran concluded.

The buildings ended in a large clearing surrounding the Education Center. Marking the otherwise flat surface were small outcroppings and protruding defenses. The opening of the tower itself was a yawning chasm with thick doors that looked too heavy for them to open. Thankfully, they were already ajar, welcoming them.

Looking up, Merana spotted Julios sitting on top of the door's threshold.

"So the valiant heroes storm the enemy encampment to slay the villains." He said in a mocking tone. "However, I still stand in your way." Hopping off his perch, the elf fell more than a dozen meters and landed with a pulse of light glinting off the surface. Rising to his feet with no sign of injury, he grinned and dusted himself off. "I have to admit, you have gotten farther than I would have thought possible, but you sacrificed quite a bit to get to this point. Not as many mooks to throw at us as before."

Merana fired her shield up, prompting the others to prepare for combat.

"Everyone," Darran ordered. "Leave this one to me. He's mine."

"You don't have to do this," Merana pleaded. "We both have reasons for taking this monster, but we cannot do it alone."

"You want a duel?" Julios asked. "Very well, I accept." Signaling his men to back off. "The rest of you will finish off the others." With a thrust of his hand against the cool, smooth floor, a shield formed around the two of them as Darran sprinted forward. "Let's get started." Julios said with a grin.

Wasting no time, Darran closed in on Julios, hacking at the elf with enough force to shove him backwards, even though he was able to block the attack.

Pushing against Darran's weapons, the elf leaned forward and hopped back. Floating over the floor, his boots scrapping against the metallic floor as he landed and ran at him again.

Darran swung at his opponent with barely constrained fury, every hit staggering the elf. But for each hit, Julios deflected the next more efficiently. Between each blow, he would flick out his wrist, either to lash out at Darran with the claws on his gauntlets, or to fire a spell. The ex-slave hunter could easily dodge the spells, but constant barrage wore on him, and each time, he was getting a little slower…

"No need to go easy on me, human." Julios cackled.

Darran growled as he blocked a barrage of strikes. One block was a little too slow and the sharp claws of Julios' gauntlets clipped him over the eye. The next strike caught Darran in the shoulder, spinning him around.

With a smile, Darran dipped down, swinging with the momentum, catching the elf in the stomach. Taking advantage of his foe's shock, he aimed for Julios' head, but was thrown back. Giving his neck a crack, Darran twirled his weapons around in his hands.

"You're right." He said. "No reason for me to hold back."

* * *

When the barrier went up, Hector, Merana, and the surviving mercenaries formed a defense around Lenli as she lobbed a grenade at their assailants, half of whom disappeared in a flash of blue-white light.

Seeing the fate their allies had fallen to, the remaining enemies spread out, with archers taking positions at the rear. Taking note of their change of tactics, Lenli pulled up her crossbow and began sniping them two in rapid succession, rolling and taking advantage of the her small size by hiding behind larger corpses.

With the closing lines, Hector fell into the midst of the enemy combatants, taking advantage of the close quarters and momentary confusion to disable the immediate threats before they could properly respond. When they began to press him, Merana plowed through the nearside of the formation, shoving the elves into their allies. Meanwhile, Hector preyed on those still recovering,

More snipers came out as the reinforcements advanced on their position, who received a grenade in their path, thinning their ranks before the got close enough to do any damage. Gleefully, Lenli shot the stragglers down along with those who slipped around the others. Her attention shifted when she noticed the absence of return fire.

"What are you doing…?" she thought aloud. "They're pulling back!"

"What?" Hector said as he slammed his opponent against the ground, quickly slashing him across the throat before looking to the Dwarf.

"I said they're pulling back."

"You hear that, Merana?"

The elf in question bowled another elf against the barrier, frying him as the shield repelled him.

"What do you mean?" She demanded.

"Exactly what I said." Lenli angrily shouted back. "I saw some of them turn around and head back into the city."

"Then-"

A shout drew their attention to the happenings inside the barrier.

Julios scooted back from Darran, who had a withering look on his face. The elf's breastplate had been sundered, his helmet sported several gouges, and the armor around his joints were coated with red. Darran, on the other hand, sported some scraps and burns, damaged clothing marking where he had evaded lethal strikes.

"Are you kidding me?" Darran growled. "I had to protect my master from mage assassins all the time. Did you really think I would go down that easily?"

Julios reached to his side, but Darrar kicked away the lyrium crystal before he could absorb it. Stretching his left arm out, Julios fired a weak blast, which Darran easily sidestepped. He spat aside and stomped on the elf's chest.

"Where's my wife?" Darran demanded.

With a thump to the midsection, Darran was sent sliding across the ground. Recovering his weapons, he scrambled to his feet, frantically searching for his new attacker.

Wincing from the pain, Julios rolled on the floor onto his knees, retrieving another lyrium shard and crushing it in his hands.

"I'd rather I not have to use this in the first place," He said, gritting his teeth. "But seeing as I am in somewhat of a bind…"

The gauntlet emitted a pulse, and a figure tossed away a concealing cloak like a curtain of fog. The sergeant cracked her neck and brought her poleaxe to bear.

"Why am I not surprised." Darran muttered.

"This is war;" Julios cackled. "You could have hardly expected me to play fair." He then turned to the sergeant. "Use any means to take him down."

Raising his weapons, Darran braced his opponent's next strike.


	14. Requiem: Chapter Thirteen

The sergeant swung her poleaxe at Darran, making him dance around in the confines of the shield. The strength of her blows were deeply felt against his tiring arms. Still laying on the ground, Julios chuckled as the fight carried on, glancing at those waiting outside.

He was irked that his men were so easily defeated, but with the way the fight inside the shield was going, the could be dealt with in short order. The probability of success went up the longer they could draw things out.

Catching the poleaxe, Darran shoved it aside while lunging in, bringing his other axe onto his foe's head. The helmet cracked and fell away, the woman's face. Her hair was a light shade of brown, closely and beginning to thin. Cold grey eyes stared at her opponent.

Darran froze.

"Josi?" he inquired hesitantly.

Without reply, Josi brought her poleaxe around, swatting the stunned man aside. Grunting, Darran blocked before the blade end could bite flesh.

"Josi, stop!" he pleaded. "It's me, Darran. Please. answer me!"

His pleas were met with cold silence as his wife swung her poleax at him. Again and again, she came at him, flinging salvo after salvo of spells. Every offense was sloppily deflected by Darran, who continued to call out to his beloved.

Darran swung furiously, but refrained from doing anything severely harming her. His opponent showed no such restraint as she hammered against him.

Josi swept her weapon underneath her husband, knocking him into the air, and brought pommel down on his chest, slamming him into the ground. Laying on his back, gasping for breath, Darran watched as his wife prepared to deliver a coup-de-grace.

"No!" Merana shouted.

Pressing her powers against the shield, Merana shredded through the barrier, barreling into Josi and blocking her counter-strike with her shield. Her sword swing was parried with enough strength to nearly knock her sword from her hand, but she recovered and swung again.

Lenli fired a bolt over Merana's shoulder, staggering Josi long enough for Merana to slash her leg. Grunting, Josi swung her poleaxe around, slamming it against the Templar's back. Whipping around, she spun her weapon, slapping away another bolt and followed up with a stunning blast.

Sliding up to Josi, Hector blocked her next attack and swung a leg underneath her, forcing her to jump as Merana tackled her to the ground. Focusing her energy to her palm, Merana gripped the woman's forehead and pressed. Letting out a scream, Josi thrashed and futilely slapped at her assailant.

With a scream, Josi through Merana off and dragged herself back to her feet. Merana grabbed her sword, pointing it at the woman as she wobbled in a daze.

"I'm sorry." Josi said, collapsing in a fit of tears.

Darran forced himself up to catch her.

"I'm here, love." He said, holding her in an embrace.

"I'm so sorry." She said, repeating it over and over.

Julios propped himself up to his knees, spitting a mouthful of blood to the side.

"What lovely, touching reunion." he drawled sarcastically. Raising his arm, he fired off an arcane bolt at Darran. Josi stepped in front of her husband, taking the bolt to the torso. The spell burned through her, her armor, and into Darran, mortally wounding him.

Eying Lenli as she was taking aim with her crossbow, Julios fired another blast at the dwarf, who fell to the ground, then took aim at Merana.

Dodging a barrage of poorly aimed bolts, Merana cut into Julios' armor in synchronization with Hector, him slicing into the tendon of Julios' right arm while she dragged her blade across his neck.

With a cough, Julios fell to his knees in a growing pool of his own blood, clutching his good hand to his throat. With a final kick, gravity carried the enemy soldier the rest of the way to the floor. The cavern quickly fell silent.

Darran crawled to Josi's side.

"I'm so sorry." She said, weakly.

"Hush darling." Darran said, taking her hand in his. "We had a good run."

Merana buried her sword into a nearby corpse and clasped her hands, giving the deceased couple and the rest of the fallen a quick prayer as Hector surveyed the battlefield. Bodies littered the courtyard, blood muting the sheen of the metallic-looking floor.

"It's just us now." Hector said.

Nodding, Merana walked to Lenli's body and rummaged through the dwarf's gear. Pulling out a pair of grenades, she tossed one to Hector.

"One for each of us." She said. "That's the last of them."

"Just in case, I take it." Hector replied.

"Something like that."

The two of them looked to the open doors.

"Are you ready?" Merana asked.

"Do you have to ask?" he replied.

Retrieving her weapon, the two of them ran into the Education Center.

To their surprise, the lobby was fairly empty. The Overseer stood at the far side, flanked by a dozen warriors.

"Brave of you to persist in the face of hopeless odds." He said, smirking slightly at the intruders. "Brave and foolhardy." Stretching out his hand, his men ran forward.

Hector and Merana charged forward to meet them.

Bashing her first opponent back, Merana rolled around his friend and drove her sword into his back. His friend quickly attacked her before she could pull out her sword. Deactivating her shield, she opened it again, slicing off the man's sword arm and decapitating her other victim.

With a shout, Hector ducked under a swing and drove his shoulder into the offender's throat. Snaking his arm around the man's neck, Hector wrench his neck and dragged him into the path of a spell, immolating the elf in hand. Throwing the fallen soldier at his ally, Hector grabbed the dropped sword and flung it at the nearest enemy soldier as he closed distance.

Another elf flew up past his left side, swinging her sword. Parrying and ducking underneath the blow, he caught his intended target's arm and rolled him over his shoulder as his ally rebounded back at him. When her blade drove into the other soldier's back, he jabbed his blade into the slit of her helmet, blinding her as he dealt with his next target.

A wave of energy washed over Hector as Merana jumped over him to strike down the soldier coming up from behind him. Tag teaming, the two of them quickly dispatched the next soldier when a fireball flew between them. Turning around, they finished off the blinded elf and turned their attention to the Overseer, who rolled his shoulders back as he watched the last of his men fall.

"I suppose I have to do this myself." He said with disappointment.

The Overseer pressed his fingertips together and pulled them apart, flicking them outward. Grabbing the newly-formed, glowing staff ice, he swung it up against his shoulder, resting his right hand on the portion extending above his head. Sweeping left foot across the floor, he swung his staff down, smacking the floor and scraping around him.

A cloud of fog sprung up from nowhere and began to swirl around, frosting every surface in the room. Despite the chill, Merana and Hector stood unaffected.

"How?" The Overseer demanded.

"Wouldn't you like to know." Hector replied.

Snarling at the setback, the Overseer gathered the spell and concentrated it at the end of his staff. Flinging it forward, a shower of icicles flew at his foes.

Diving forward, Merana slid in front of Hector, putting her shield between them and the attack.

Forming a new staff in each hand, he launched himself across the room, spiraling to swing at the both of them. As Merana ducked under the swing aimed for her, Hector intercepted both blows. With a growl, the Overseer kicked Merana away, pulled one staff away, and fired the energy out from the end, barely missing Hector as he evaded the aim corrections. Shoving Hector back, the Overseer crushed the depleted staff and blasted it at the man.

Rolling aside, Hector ran ahead of a streaming blast of freezing air. Throwing a knife, he swore under his breath as the Overseer swatted it aside. The Overseer swung another staff at the human, knocking him away. Flying forward, the Overseer bombarded Hector with his staves relentlessly, energy arcing with each impact With a smile, the Overseer threw the javelin. Exploding in a flash of arcane energy as it struck the ground, the javelin knocked Hector off his feet. Raising his arm in defense, Hector felt the force him aside, burning through his coat.

Hastily rolling aside when the other javelin came flying at him, he sprinted, flinging another knife at the Overseer as another pair of staves formed in his hands. To his target's surprise, the blade made its mark, burying itself into shoulder joint instead of bouncing off a deflecting barrier like he had expected.

The Overseer spun around, bringing his staves to block Merana's chain of attack. Lacking their normal integrity, the ice shafts cracked, nearly exploding in both of their faces.

Redirecting the energy to his enemy, the Overseer jumped back, slamming his hands together flicking them outward, shaping a cone of cold.

Merana warded the frosty blast and charged forward, pressing her advantage as she drained the Overseer's mana reserves. His spells weakened and sputtered as he dodged the ex-Templar's swings.

"Catch." Hector called out.

Seeing the grenade flying through the air, Merana kicked the Overseer back and threw herself as far away as possible. In a panic, the Overseer poured the last of his power into a final spell, encasing the explosive in ice, became its only victim when the iceberg exploded, riddling him with shards of ice. Whatever the Overseer tried to say degenerated into a string of incoherent screaming as he tried to limp away, falling flat on his face.

Hector smiled as he sank to his knees, coughing out a mouthful of blood. Running to his side, Merana deactivated her shield and propped him on her shoulder.

"I've got you." She said.

"Go finish him off." He coughed. "We're not done yet."

Leaning Hector against a pillar along the way, Merana strode to her fallen foe, gripping her sword until her knuckles went white. Her anger spiked as he feebly crawled away.

"No, no, no," He quickly muttered. "This was not supposed to happen. The Promised Day…" He rolled over to rest on his good elbow, sneering at his enemy. "Come to gloat? Don't bother."

Merana scoffed.

"I'm not one to stoop to such behavior." She replied.

The Overseer heaved and shook, then he began to laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"You have done far more than we ever expected," the Overseer said. "But you have scarcely hurt us. Most of the people you killed today were those that we have indoctrinated, and they are only a small portion of what are."

Merana swallowed as the Overseer took a pained breath.

"Look around you. This is not an underground prison. It is a city, a nation, a people. All of whom are dedicated to the resurgence of the elven people. You may have killed me, but tomorrow, I will be replaced, our plans will continue, and you will all be dead." The elf cocked his head to the side, looking past Merana. "Isn't that right, Vaelnor?"

Merana spun around, activating her shield, and found herself staring at a tall, light-haired elf in the middle of swinging a warhammer at her. The shield scarcely did anything to suppress the magnitude of the blow, only dispersing the initial energy into a wide arc, pulverizing the Overseer's internal organs as he was caught in the blast.

Hurtling through the air, Merana crashed against the wall pillar in a bone-breaking impact and fell in a heap. Forcing her eyes open despite the pain, she saw her sword laying next to the pillar she had flown past. Trying to reach for her weapon, her arm only twitched.

With a defiant roar, Hector dragged himself to stand, picking his sword up once more as he came to his friend's aid. One of the guards from Vaelnor's entourage came from behind and knocked him off balance and magically dragged the battered warrior the leader's feet.

Scowling at the crippled human, Vaelnor raised his hammer brought the pommel down, impaling the man that lay before him, staring at him with cold eyes while the last dregs of life ebbed out of him.

"As fitting of an end for warriors of your stature." He praised his fallen enemies. "But your journey is at an end."

She could tell that she was not going to survive, but as the heavy footfalls came nearer and the wounds she had suffered faded from her consciousness, she could not force her hand to reach for the last grenade.

Vaelnor stood over Merana, sighing like a disappointed father. "You would have been a great ally."

Closing her eyes, the Templar braced for the finishing blow.

* * *

Vaelnor emerged from the Education Center, lips pressed into a thin line. Commander Levraan had been installed as the new Overseer and had already set about cleaning up the mess that his predecessor had left behind. Seeing a team of healers stooped over Julios, he approached them. One stood to greet his fellows continued working.

"What is his status, Noriam?" Vaelnor inquired.

"He will survive, Hierarch." The healer replied. "But we will need to place him in stasis for some time while we tend to his injuries."

Looking at Julios, Vaelnor turned back to Noriam and nodded.

"Very well. Do what you must. He still has work to do."

The Hierarch carried on, looking out over the city. They had suffered losses; no matter how minor, Vaelnor loathed the notion of wasting the lives of his people. Even though their presence had been discovered, it was a necessary price to pay. They had waited for ages, but now everyone could feel the changes in the world. Their time was fast approaching, and he would allow nothing to impeded the Promised Day.

 **A/N: So there you have it: Total Party Kill. What were you expecting from a story titled** _ **Requiem**_ **? I had been saving my commentary for a while now, hoping to keep some things obscured, but that is no longer necessary.  
**

 **At any rate, this is part one of the Apocalytian Saga. Each part of the Apocalyptian Saga will be covering a different part of the world and the growing conflict. Between each part, there will be an interlude or two to show what is happening elsewhere in Thedas. If you are wondering if any of your favorite characters will make an appearance, the answer is yes. Just wait and see.**

 **I hope you have enjoyed the story so far, and that you will continued to do so in the future. Constructive criticism and reviews are always welcome. If you really like the story, be sure to tell your friends, acquaintances, etc…**

 **Anyways, see you around. Ciao!**


	15. From The Deep

In the realms beneath the Deep Roads, few without the taint had ever braved the realm and returned the surface, so if were there any fully sentient beings present to observe their passing, they would have found it strange to see two untainted individuals walking openly in the caves that played home to large colonies of darkspawn. Both elven, one was tall, covered in heavy cloth. The other was short, little more than half the size of the other, wearing travel robes. She trailed behind in a manner of a servant, staff in hand in anticipation of her master's needs. A ward surrounded the duo, keeping the taint at bay. The darkspawn as a whole took effort to avoid crossing their path, clinging to the nooks and crannies of the deep. Walking alongside her master, the diminutive elven woman was forced practically run to keep pace. Side by side, they made their way past the tainted patrols, and pushing past an invisible wall, they walked into the realms not held by the creatures.

The path was bare and undisturbed, allowing them simple passage into the heart of the cavern where their destination laid. Ancient walls rose up and the land around the bridge sloped into pits of molten rock, leaving only one way to reach their destination.

The bridge was wide enough for four wagons to ride side by side and seemed as if a mile long, looking as if it had been recently built. Scowling, the taller elf stepped forward and slashed a flurry of projectiles with his sword until his ally raised a repelling ward in front of them.

"Stay behind me, Master." She said, her voice somewhat distant and flat.

Merely nodding, the Master advanced along with her, lending her a small measure of his power to keep her ward up.

"Impressive," The Master said. "After all this time, the defenses are still fully functional. But it will take more than that to stop me."

When they reached the gates, the Master pried them open, forcing them apart with his hands. In the dark interior, their eyes adjusted, and from there, the Master guided them forward, navigating the traps and labyrinthine passageways. The shadows and yawning spaces threatened to swallow them and pressed against them as if to crush them when they did not yield.

Forcing their way past gate after gate, the Master finally stopped to inspect their final hurdle. The seals were still secure and unmolested, as he darkspawn had yet to reach this place. Seeing this, the Master grunted with satisfaction.

"Step back." He commanded.

"As you command, Master." the elf said with a low bow as she complied.

Gathering the ambient energy, the Master pressed against the seal, burning some of his stores of power. With a push and a deafening _crack_ , the seal fell apart and into a heap in front of the door as they opened inward.

"Wait here." The Master ordered.

The interior was dimly lit, but was sufficient to see the lone occupant.

Curled in the center, bound in chains, a draconic creature filled the chamber, its prison. Unlike the creatures that stemmed from him and his kind, he dwarfed even the greatest of high dragons. As the Master approached, the creature stirred, its slumber disturbed by the unique presence of arcane power approaching.

"So the Destroyer finally comes." it bellowed softly.

"Speaker of Mysteries." the Master answered. "Hello, old friend."

"Old as time and ancient are we, but through long slumber, have we truly earned such a designation?"

"Your speech patterns remain the same, I see."

Despite the anatomical difficulties, the being managed to smile.

"Rarely does one as distinguished as yourself make the effort, nay, few at all ever visit me or my brothers. What brings you to my...humble chambers?"

"I wonder why you should even ask that. My ambition has not faltered, and your oath still remains valid."

"Ahh..." the creature sighed contently. "So it is time for the Final Blade to awaken once more?"

"Yes. And this time, Father will not be able to intervene."

"Then let us be off. I tire of this prison."

Nodding, the Master raised his hand, and a nimbus of energy gathered around him. With its release, the great links that made up the chains around the draconic creature fell away. Shaking itself free, the beast emerged from its prison to the subtle surprise of the servant waiting outside. Recovering, she quickly moved herself from his path, at which he chuckled deeply.

"I see you have wasted no time in assembling your forces." said the dragon.

"All will come to pass in due time, Razikale." The Master replied. "Now, shall we begin?"

 **End of Requiem.**

 **Prepare for Isolation.**

 **A/N: If you are not already aware, I began writing this story well before Dragon Age: Inquisition was named as such. Much of what you learned in Inquisition is not going to apply here, and characters that were introduced in Inquisition will not make an appearance here. For all intents and purposes, this is an AU.**

 **I will be keeping Author Notes here to a minimum, mostly at key intervals or when something needs to be addressed, so if you want to see answers to your questions, extra fluff and whatnot, or superfluous updates in general, you can check out my DeviantArt account (don't want to needlessly jack up the word count, do we?).**

 **Those of you who meandered over from** _ **Avatar: Finding Yourself**_ **(or just read both)** _ **,**_ **I plan on releasing another chapter for** _ **A:FY**_ **before I continue with** _ **DA:AS.**_


	16. Isolation: Chapter One

_The Nevarra/Tevinter border_

 _The 9th of Cassus, 9:37 Dragon_

The camp was set abuzz when Marscius' team arrived. It had been ages since he had visited the Dalish. Only the oldest, those with long memoires could remember the occasion, but here he was; him and his team approaching the center of the encampment.

Hearing the uproar, the Keeper emerged from his aravel.

"Welcome, brothers and sisters." he said. "What news do you bring?"

"Our vigil has been completed."

Nodding, the Keeper turned to his First. "Send word to Mhadek. We require an audience with him."

The young elf sprinted off to attend to his business. Everyone began chattering among themselves. Others returned to their previous tasks, but with a spring in their step. That was when the intruders decided to assert their presence.

"Well, well." Someone said.

Emerging from the treeline, a group of humans stalked through the camp, brandishing their weapons. In the midst of the jubilation, the intruders had breached the perimeter unopposed. Quickly recovering, the Dailish eyed the shemlen angrily, hands on their weapons. There were only a few of them, but it would not do to rush things. Unless the shemlen did something drastic, it was up to the Keeper to decide what to do with them, and for the moment, he elected to talk things out.

"Why do you disturb the peace?" The Keeper demanded.

"You knife-ears have no business here." The leader said, stepping forward.

"As you can see, we are Dalish. Neither do we have any intention of remaining here for long."

The human laughed as he eyed the elves surrounding him and his friends.

"You don't get it." He said. "You even coming near here was a mistake. Boys!"

His men raised their weapons, preparing to fight.

"No more foolishness." a voice boomed.

A wall of power slammed into the humans, who found themselves paralyzed.

Striding between the aravels, another elf approached the arrested altercation. In the presence of this new elf, the Dalish kneeled. He carried himself with a regal bearing, almost gliding along the ground.

The new elf was tall, standing at a height with the humans. His clothes mimicked the colors of nature, earthen brown, and green like the leaves of trees. One aspect of his appearance stood out: his right eye was, in entirety, amber, glowing in what light was offered.

"Lord Mhadek." The Keeper said.

Inclining his head to the Keeper, Mhadek turned to the humans.

"What business do you have with my people?" He demanded. "Oh, that's right." Snapping his fingers, he allowed the leader to speak. "Again," he reiterated. "Why are you here bothering my people?"

"You knife-ears are like a plague." The leader said. "We were sent to get rid of you."

Mhadek regarded the intruders with a sniff of disdain as he paced between them.

"Your belligerence and lack of foresight will be your undoing." He said.

"More of us are on the way." The leader boasted. "You can't hope to win."

Mhadek looked over his shoulder. His cloak shuffling, five tree branches slithered out, each carrying a blade. Walking into the middle of the group, the branches unfurled, metal glinting in the firelight. A knot of wood grew out, sprouting off of the elf's shoulder.

"Perseverance?"

A low rumbling shaped a reply.

 _"Yes?"_

"Let us show these shemlen the error of their ways."

 _"Gladly."_

Flicking the blades out, a dozen shemlen heads fell to the dirt, followed shortly by the rest of them. Seeing that there were no other threats present, Mhadek retraced the branches, stowing them underneath his cloak, leaving one solitary branch stemming over his right shoulder. Finding a high branch, he flew up and addressed his people.

"Break camp." He commanded. "We move within the hour."

Marscius approached Mhadek and bowed.

"Lord Mhadek," Marscius said. "I bring news."

Mhadek regarded the scout with interest.

"Very well," he replied. "Make your report."

* * *

 _"Revenge is a poison, an acid for the soul. You can call it anything, paint it any way you like. Call it justice, paying evil unto evil. In the end, the result is the same. It will dissolve you, burn you out of purpose and place. And should you survive, endure the poison's course, you will find that you traded everything else for momentary self-satisfaction."_ \- Inzekon

Isolation

 _Southwestern Nevarra_

 _The 4_ _th_ _of Nubulis, 9:38 Dragon_

Thunder echoed in the distance. To the untrained ear, it sounded chaotic, but to Anders it pulsed in a steady rhythm, like the beating of a drum. The sound of war raging, tearing up the countryside, and many others like it across Thedas.

In the distance was the raining of magic, the twisting of the forces of nature to the whims of mortals. Men and women being struck down by arcane forces and steel in a clash that so many had feared would come. The fruits of his labors. The monument of his greatest of crimes as well as his noblest of acts.

"An inevitability" he, and so many others, had claimed. So many had hoped for a peaceful resolution. But living under the thumb of Templars for so long had caused so much enmity between them and their charges that such hopes were pitifully naïve.

He and Justice had tried fixing things, or at least, that was the intention. Stop the madness, free the Mages from the oppression of those told them that their very existence was sinful. But even the best of intentions were warped by deeply seated anger and bitterness on his part, and it spread like a disease to his friend, twisting him into a force known as Vengeance. Their mission, their dream was doomed to failure before it had the chance to see the light of day.

"No more compromise" he had said to his friend. One of the few people who had dared to trust him. Trust betrayed for the sake of his goals. A part of him wanted to blame the spirit, but it was as much a part of him as any limb; a soul fused with his own. Both of them equally to share the blame.

Justice was silent now. The anger that had relentlessly driven him so long had finally subsided. But he was not at peace. This was not the silence of tranquility. The silence gave him time to think. Time to dwell, to meditate on his mistakes, the blood shed by his actions, and war that was all but declared.

He remembered his fateful act. He remembered the anger from his friends, people who had tolerated his incessant preaching for so long. Hawke had every reason to execute him on the spot. Sebastian had even called for his head, but was denied, even with the threat of Starkhaven being raised against Kirkwall.

He wish he had been executed. Death would have been easier.

Walking among the people, he expected to be disliked by the mages, for altering their lives so thoroughly without their consent. He had not expected to be loathed, to be so thoroughly despised by his own kind.

So he watched from the distance as Mages and Templars clashed. One might say it was an even fight, but the Mages were slowly being slaughtered. The Templar Order had spent centuries learning to hunt their charges, quelling uprisings ever now and then. Killing Mages was something they had become extremely efficient at.

Of course, neither side had ever challenged each other on such a scale. Pitched battles where thousands could be involved. Campaigns that were beginning to stretch long past the capacity of the resources either side possessed, both in manpower and supplies.

The Veil quivered, demons patiently waiting for their opportunity to strike, to seize a weakened mage in the midst of bloody battle. To their credit, the Mages were holding up well, but their lines were beginning to falter, their methods of attack meant for range, not melees. Before long, the assembled Mages fractured, some fleeing into the woods, others retreated in the closest semblance of order they could. A few remained. The ones that were either incredibly stupid, extremely desperate, or supremely arrogant.

A screech echoed in the valley. The undeniable screams of a Mage being possessed against their will. The Templars hastened their offensive, but it was already too late. The monster reanimated the corpses that littered the battlefield, more joining the ranks with every pulse of its power.

Undaunted, the Templars clashed against the fallen, their enemies and brethren alike being used against them. Anders could not help but think how extraordinarily greedy the demon must have been, to take hold of a Mage in front of an army of Templars. It was certainly powerful, slaying the Mage-Killers in droves. But the physical capacities of its host was not enough to hold out against so many of them at once.

The demon's arrival had the added benefit of giving the remaining Mages a head start, most clearing out of the valley before the Templars could put it down. Even though it was a clear victory for Templars, they elected not to pursue the Mages, not right away. Whether their victory really amounted to anything was going to be in question. The Mages had fled before them, but they were battered from their fight. Religious fervor could fuel their hunt for only so long.

Storms brewing on the horizon, Anders ventured into the valley as the Templars retreated to their camp. Bodies had been stacked and burned in haste. Arms and armor had been stripped, likely to be passed on to another batch of recruits as soon as possible. There were plenty of pious men and women ready to take up arms.

Blood soaked into the land. Grass was blackened, by fire and coagulation. Crows and buzzards began to gather, eager to feed on whatever the Templars had missed. Enduring the stench, Anders drew close to the blaze. The faces of the fallen vacantly stared out into nothingness.

Platitudes and prayers were not something that he had the heart to spew out. The Templars had probably done that already. He did feel guilt. If he had intervened, could he have prevented the demon from taking hold? Would the tide of battle turned to their favor?

So many questions, so little time. His Calling was likely to be upon him in the next few years, maybe even sooner. What had he really done with his time?

He had kept the clinic going in Kirkwall for a number of years, but he almost felt like dismissing it. The good he had done there was tainted by his deceptions that led to him destroying the Chantry.

There was time at Vigil's Keep. He had done plenty there, scouring the Deep Roads of darkspawn, throwing back an assault.

Going to the Deep Roads early was certainly an option. He remembered the maps that had been plotted during Jarrod Cousland's expeditions to the darkspawn territory. Maybe it would be fun, trudging through darkspawn until he found a stronghold, blasting it all to oblivion as his last act in this life. He was a Grey Warden, if not legally, in spirit. Whether he wanted it that way or not.

It still felt like taking the easy way out, so he dismissed the idea.

Taking up his staff, Anders began the hike back out of the valley. Rain was already beginning to fall. Mud flecked onto his robes and water seeped into his shoes. It did not register in Anders' mind. What did however, were the two figures that stepped from the trees, throwing off their cloaks.

More Templars.

"Submit yourself to the will of the Maker." One demanded.

Anders stared at the two young Templars who shook in his presence. A shameful display in front of a lone mage. He doubted that anyone could recognize him on sight. No, their fear had carried over from the battle. They were likely new recruits who had seen an abomination for the first time.

"Why?" Anders asked.

The Templars flinched at Anders' monotone.

"You're a mage." The other Templar said, trying to sound confident. "It is our holy task to eliminate your kind."

The two brandished their swords and charged.

Anders felt his consciousness fade to the back of his mind as Vengeance asserted his presence. Death would be preferable, but the spirit would not take it laying down. Anders watched as the spirit tore into the young Templars. It would have been a horrifying sight if it were not so dreadfully common. Bandits had taken to attacking the lone scraggly looking man in tattered robes, finding their attempted robbery turned on its head as their would-be victim destroyed them. This was simply a marginally positive alternative, and the only time he was certain that Justice was still there.

The damage done, Anders continued on with no one else the wiser to the presence of the instigator of their problems.

* * *

Every day, it took a little more effort for Anders to force himself off the ground after he slept. Not that he slept that much, or that often, for that matter. His bones ached, and every day he felt slower, weaker. Justice was probably all that kept him going, so he did. Waking up, he would wander around, keeping away from the roads, avoiding encampments, scrounging enough food to keep him going for another couple of days or so. Find a relatively warm and dry place to sleep. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Despite the absence of company, the crushing depression, and the potential of death hiding in every shadow, it was a rather relaxing experience. So far, he had not come close to any other person in over a week. At times, he was beginning to wonder if the world had emptied itself of all mortals.

"Hello, Anders." Someone said.

Anders stopped in his tracks, but betrayed no emotion, though that was more of a result that he was not emoting in the first place. He watched as a young person clambered out from the underbrush. His hair was scraggily and greasy.

"I don't know you," Anders said. "Leave me alone."

The youth finished untangling himself from the bush he had been hiding in, falling unceremoniously on his rump.

"That's no way to treat a comrade." He complained. "Don't you recognize me? From the mage underground back in Kirkwall?"

Anders studied his face. Black hair, brown eyes, pale skin. Slender build, narrow face with a sharp nose.

"Cutter?" Anders guessed.

"I knew you'd recognize me!"

 _I really hadn't._ "What are you doing?"

"Looking for food, mostly. Keeping an eye out for Templars or other shifty folk. But to think I'd run into you. It must be the Makers plan or some nonsense."

It was only because of Anders predicament that he still acknowledged the Maker's existence. Justice had occasionally told stories, passed along by other spirits who remembered their creation.

"You and Hawke were a great boon to our cause, and then the next thing we know, you've both disappeared. What happened to you both?"

 _We left,_ Anders and everyone else closely associated with him had all left, hoping to spare Kirkwall the wrath of the Templars.

"We...went into hiding." He replied finally.

"I'll say." Cutter remarked. "It's been ages since we heard any sort of rumor regarding you. We were expecting some rallying cry from one or both of you, to keep the good fight going. Right now we're just scattered, every Circle working independently of each other, hardly any cooperation. That's no way to fight a war, is it? But with you here, we can get everyone to organize a proper warfront."

"We?"

"You, me, and the others. We've been hiding since this whole mess started, making the occasional raid before relocating. Found some others, both from Kirkwall and the others Circles nearby."

He started off in a direction, then stopped and turned around.

"Aren't you coming?" Cutter asked.

With a sigh, Anders followed the lad along an almost invisible path. He vaguely remembered seeing him when he first arrived in Kirkwall. If Cutter was indeed who he said he was, he had managed to live through the final days of Meredith's reign as Knight-Commander and acting-Viscount and the Kirkwall Rebellion. A feat that few could truly claim. And he recognized Anders from the Underground, so he had to have been a new addition before everything went up in flames, as Anders took care to memorize the names and faces of the people he worked with, both for security and the human element. How Cutter had survived such ordeals with no psychological signs was almost enviable.

Weaving through a collection of underbrush, Cutter began stalking quietly, eyeing the shadows, beckoning Anders to do the same. When he finally arrived, he whistled into his hands. The melody was answered by harmony, prompting them forward. The sentry inclined his head as they passed, just barely noticeable in his hiding place.

"Just stay calm, and I'll make sure everyone's cheering for you by the end of it."

 _Fat chance of that ever happening,_ Anders thought.

Entering the hideout, Anders noted the lack of resources. There were some knapsacks and other bedding, but nowhere near enough for the dozens of people present. What's more, many of them were young, old, or otherwise looked unfit for battle of any sort.

"Hey, sis!" Cutter announced. "I found a familiar someone."

The mage in question turned around, clearly not Cutter's sister, looking almost nothing like him. She was a fair bit darker than everyone else in the cave; possibly from Rivain or Antiva. Her nose was small and her cheekbones rode high, and her brows low. If her robes were anything to go be, she had been a Senior Enchanter. Her face quickly sorted into a scowl when she laid eyes on Anders.

"What's he doing here?!" She demanded.

"He's Anders, the-"

"I know who he is, Cutter. _What_ he is. I was asking what he was doing here. With us."

"Huh?"

"Get rid of him."

"But sis, he's one of the Heroes of Kirkwall!"

"If you had brought us the Champion, I would have been grateful. I won't have anything to do with an abomination, no matter who he was friends with."

Cutter looked like he had been slapped, before sputtering out meek "what".

"This is his fault! We were just fine before _he_ decided to blow up a Chantry."

"Just fine would not cut it anymore!" Anders barked. "If I hadn't done anything, it would not have been long before every mage in every Circle on the continent would have been made tranquil!"

"Bollocks!" Pel bit back. "You have no proof for your insinuations."

"I had evidence of a movement that, while halted, was not completely stamped out. It was called the Tranquil Solution. I see that you don't believe. That's fine. But it still comes down to the fact that we were barely tolerated to begin with. How long should I have waited to start a revolution? How long until the Devine, the First Seeker, and the Knight-Vigilant all agreed that they needed to suppress us? After they had finished weakening us?"

"The Templars were nice and lazy before you decided to muck things up. We could get people out with some trouble, and things were stable. Now we're fighting for our lives, hoping that they don't come down on us all hours."

"So you'd prefer submission to freedom, to a hopeful tomorrow?"

"I am interested in our survival."

"We were NOT surviving. It was a slow death, and it would have taken decades, but in the end, we would be little more than drooling, blindly obedient slaves."

"Silence!"

One of the other mages stood up. "What's the problem, Pel?" he asked.

"You've all heard about the destructing of the Kirkwall Chantry, yes?" she replied. Seeing nods, she continued. "This man is the one responsible. Not only that, but he did so while under the influence of a demon."

Anders felt Vengeance growling at the misnomer.

"This…man standing before us is an Abomination." Pel continued. "Furthermore, he is the root cause for our predicament. Would you deny that, Anders?"

"I deny nothing except that Justice is no demon." Anders answered. "He is a spirit with as much moral ambiguity as any other mortal."

He regretted saying that when, instead of listening to his explanation, nearly everyone backed away from him. If Pel had any decree in regards to Anders, it was interrupted when another mage came running into the room with the sentry.

"We have Templars coming off the road!" she panted.

"Calm down." Pel ordered. "Did they look like they had spotted you?"

"I don't think so, but they split in our direction."

Pel swore under her breath.

"Everyone, douse the lights and prepare for combat. Anyone not fit for fighting, head for the escape tunnels. Amelia, Daveth: you go with them. And take two more with you; send word if you run into trouble." Pel then turned to Anders. "We'll finish our discussion later."

Anders nodded, tightly gripping his staff.

"If you need me to, I can draw them off." He offered.

"I will not trust the defense of our retreat to one man, especially not an abomination."

"So you've already given up." Anders was disappointed, but not surprised.

Pel sneered at him. "Cutter, Liam: make sure he doesn't leave your sight. Put him down if he so much as looks at you funny."

With a huff, Pel stormed off to spread further instructions. Regardless of her attitude, Anders had at least established a measure of respect for her command authority. Her determination was probably what saw her promotion to whatever position she had held in the Circle.

"Sorry about that," Cutter said. "She's not usually like that."

"Don't be." Anders replied.

"I swear that ever since she was made senior enchanter, her head swelled like crazy."

"Cutter, stop chatting with the abomination." Liam hissed.

"What are you talking about? Anders is fine."

Someone shushed them from across the cave. In utter silence, they could hear the stomping of Templar boots, first clustered together, then splitting apart.

 _They have a phylactery,_ Anders thought. That was the only way they could be tracked this accurately. _Unless someone revealed their location, or they weren't as good at hiding themselves as they thought._ He could not make up his mind as to which was worse. Justice stirred, anticipating the clash, shifting to his Vengeance persona when steps began to echo down the cave entrance. Anders hoped that they had not found the other entrance; not with the non-combatants running straight for it.

"Here they come." Cutter whispered.

The first Templar entering the cave receive a rock to the face, a quick kill that prompted his allies to protect themselves against, having their shields raised the moment they stepped into view.

Spells pelted the enemy defensive line, skipping harmlessly over their shields as they inched forward. The mages continued to send salvo after salvo. Archers stalked out behind them, firing arrows at the mages, who had not properly prepared to defend themselves from such an attack. Hiding behind the advancing shield line, they took potshots at the defenders, ducking down when another spell came their way.

"Quit wasting your energy on them directly." Anders shouted. He showed them what he meant by hitting the ceiling with an earth-shattering spell, bringing it down on top of the enemy. The archers responded by shifting their fire towards what they perceived as the greater threat, letting their brethren continue their advance with far less danger.

Anders clung to the stone, flinging backhanded spells in hopes to disrupt their suppression. Pel continued to bark orders, but was clearly on the verge of panic.

"We can't-" a mage began to say, but her words were cut off by an arrow to the throat. The dwindling number of mages inched away from the Templars as their magic-cancelling aura sapped their powers.

Taking a deep breath, Anders stepped from cover, arrows glancing off an invisible barrier. Blue lines cracked the surface of Anders' skin, his eyes turning the same color as he stared down the Templars.

"Oh, sod." One of them muttered.

 **"You will not harm any of them!"** Justice declared, distorting his host's voice to the point of being unrecognizable. Slamming his staff down, mind blasting his opponents. Even with their impressive mental resistance, the Templars were still debilitated, and that was enough for a virulent bomb to thin their ranks. Pointing his staff at the survivors, lightning streamed out, cutting through their enchanted armor like butter flung into an oven. Bolts enveloped them, frying them inside their armor despite them warding the spell.

The Templars' advance came to a grinding halt in the face of unparalleled power. There was no resistance they could mount that would be sufficient to hold an enraged spirit of Vengeance's caliber at bay while he and his host were at full power. Their lines began to falter as those of weaker spirits and piety broke and ran, abandoning their comrades and urging others to do the same.

Vengeance was not finished, blasting what remained of the cave's ceiling out and flying through. Breaking the boulders down to manageable size, he swept the pieces around him into a whirlwind as he zeroes in on the retreating enemy. Flying to an appropriate altitude, he rained the projectiles on them at such a velocity that their armor made little difference. Once all motion below him ceased, Vengeance lowered himself to the ground and let Anders resume control of his body.

Before him was a path of rent armor and flesh. Not one of the bodies stirred, Vengeance's efficiency made abundantly clear. Cutter and Liam came running up to him, the latter aiming his staff at him.

"What was that?" he asked, flabbergasted at the scene.

"That," said Pel. "was the work of an abomination." The woman led the surviving mages in a loose formation, anticipating another fight. "Your very presence is a threat, Anders. We should put you down."

"But you won't."

Looking at the carnage, Pel swallowed and locked eyes with Anders.

"I have no clue what your game was or currently is," she said. "I will not let even the possibility of you losing control endanger us."

"But-"

"Enough, Cutter!" Pel barked. "You've done enough damage as it is. If I thought you competent enough to engineer this, I would be sending you with him, or executing you myself."

Cutter blanched and stepped back, rejoining his fellows and avoiding eye contact with Anders and Pel. Some of the mages present looked like they wanted his help, to have more strength on their side, but none of them were brave enough to counterbalance the fear that was entrenched in their camp. _Not at all surprising,_ Anders thought _._

"Leave us!" Pel bellowed.

Solemnly, Anders departed. They would understand someday.


	17. Isolation: Chapter Two

Once again, Anders found himself on a lonely road to nowhere in particular. It was an absurdly rainy season, but on the bright side, it was general a pleasantly warm temperature, and there was no shortage of shelter. He found himself a camp that had been abandoned in haste, with plenty of amenities left behind, such as blankets and dried meats.

Settling in for the night, he wrapped himself in several blankets and stared at the wall all night, falling into a deep trance as his memories played themselves over again, starting at the beginning of his recollections

His name. Not the one that he had been called by since his time in the Circle, but the one his mother and father had given him, something he scarcely remembered himself. His family was not particularly wealthy, working on a farm in the Anderfels. It was there that he first exhibited magic, the day his father's eyes turned fearful, lamenting the "punishment" for his sins and swiftly calling for the Templars, who came and clapped cuffs onto him. After that, it several wagons and a boat ride to Fereldan, where he spent his growing years in Kinloch Hold, the local Circle.

His time in the tower was not remarkable pleasant. His ire was expressed in the form of low-key pranks. He said little, and few knew anything more than that he was from the Anderfels, and so, called him Anders. When had finally come around to opening up to what few friends he had made, the name had already stuck, and he did not bother trying to correct them. It helped him distance himself from the negative memories of his family.

Escape attempt number one was roughly six months after he had arrives, a warm summer day, though that was hardly relevant, given the manner in which had had left. He had managed to secrete himself in a crate leaving the tower. The guard had underestimated Anders' patience and ability to squeeze himself into small places. It was a week of aimless wandering before the Templars realized how he had gotten out, and days later when they final caught up to him.

Attempt number two was far less interesting in that he had practically walked out the door on his fourteenth birthday. He still marveled at the chain of coincidences that had allowed for that. Of course, the guards were also far more vigilant from then on, but the stories down the grapevine were entertaining bedtime stories; after he had gotten out of confinement, that is.

Attempt number five was one of the most unmemorable as a result of a rather…interesting evening involving copious amounts of alcohol. His recollection was still somewhat fuzzy until he the Templars were dunking him on a trough.

The eighth time was when everything changed. He had been caught, and was having his laughs while the humorless Templars hauled him through Vigil's Keep. It was a strange twist in fate that the darkspawn decided to attack that evening. His escorts were killed, along with most of the other inhabitants of the fortress, leaving him to fend for himself, which he was doing very well. That was when Jarrod Cousland walked in on him turning a group of darkspawn into bubbling heaps.

As far as first impressions went, Anders figured both of them could have done much worse.

A quick introduction and just like that, he was swept along in an effort to retake the Keep. A big mystery landed in their laps (not counting the fact that the darkspawn were still that active after a Blight), he made friends with a funny dwarf that smelled like a brewery, they met a talking darkspawn, killed it, and finished clearing the Keep in time to meet the king and his entourage, which also included, surprise, Templars.

It was Jarrod's conscription into the Grey Wardens that had kept him out of their hands. To say that Rylock was displeased at an "apostate" go free would have been a gross understatement. The fact that King Alistair had agreed to it had only served to infuriate her more.

For a time, that was that. He followed the Warden-Commander wherever his missions took him. He ran into other strange people, dealt with them in ways varying from paying them, recruiting them, killing them, or scaring them witless by charisma and reputation alone. Of course, if someone swung around a massive greatsword like it was nothing and was physically imposing, even without his armor, Anders probably would have soiled himself if confronted by the man.

But even with his busy, Jarrod always took time to listen to his people. He would help them with their problems, even if they dragged him off the beaten path to do so. When Namaya dropped a lead in Anders' lap for finding his phylactery, in front of Jarrod no less, they made haste to the location. Of course it was a trap, but what followed only further elevated his opinion of the Warden-Commander. Confronting Rylock and her Templars and slaying them when they failed to back down, he was amazed at Jarrod's devotion to his companions, among which he had long since been counted.

Then came the invasion, the siege of Vigil's Keep, and of Amaranthine, its neighboring city. He had been with Jarrod when they saved the city from the darkspawn and certain destruction. He had followed him into the Deep Roads where they slew the Mother, the broodmother responsible for the attack. He was part of the attack that broke the siege of the Vigil's Keep, and had stood on the ramparts as the defenders celebrated and cheered. He had been a hero then.

Once the celebrations died down, he and the rest of Jarrod's close companions were able to experience peacetime as a Warden. And then they started going their separate ways. Velanna was reassigned to the north. Nathaniel spent a few years at the Vigil, the place that had once been his home, before traveling the lands as a recruiter. Oghren was sent away before he could drain the Keep's liquor stores, the Dwarf's expertise in the Deep Roads sorely needed elsewhere. Sigrun had left, leaving a letter saying that she had gone on her Calling, despite being a Warden for only three years. It was something everyone found suspicious, but could never follow up on to confirm. Even with the help she had received, Sigrun was still a Legionnaire of the Dead; peace would never really suit her.

Then Jarrod had left. A personal quest that he had taken no one with him for, save for his mabari war hound. It was weeks when a letter was finally delivered, in Jarrod's handwriting, nominating a successor to his position as the Warden-Commander of Ferelden.

Anders had only heard about it afterwards, as he had left earlier than anyone. Justice's previous host was a corpse, and far along in its state of decay. Anders had offered to take up the job, conspiring with the spirit he had become friends with in order to bring justice to every child stolen from their families. It was a good idea, a noble crusade.

It was something they never should have done.

Anger and resentment had festered into Anders soul, covered with a veneer of humor and sarcasm. When he became the spirit's host, it warped him, and by extension, Anders himself. Where there was once Justice, Vengeance had taken hold, a spirit corrupted by the trappings of a mortal too naïve to realize how wrong things could go on the first step.

The Wardens realized what he had done almost immediately. A Templar who had joined the ranks to keep an eye on him caught him right after the act. A dozen Wardens of all backgrounds who had survived multiple forays into the Deep Roads and a score of Templars, all against one abomination. It was a slaughter.

Now an abomination _and_ a deserter, Anders put as much distance as he could from his former friends, keeping himself as far away from anything to do with the Grey Wardens. Those efforts landed him in Kirkwall.

In a month, he was running a small clinic in Darktown, the seedy underbelly of the city. Word spread, whispers of what he could do, and rumors of who he was. He expected to be attacked by Templars, or stupidly pious vigilantes. Maybe even the Grey Wardens would come to haul him back or execute him. Instead, he got a former smuggler and aspiring businessman, and all he really wanted was a map Anders had stolen from a Grey Warden who had passed through the city. A deal was struck, a favor for a favor: aid in the escape of a mage he was in contact with, and the map and all its notations would be his.

That was his first dealing with Aedahn Hawke, and it would not be the last.

The mission went south as soon as they went into the Chantry. Karl had already been made Tranquil, stripped of all emotion and magical ability, and had been set as the bait for a trap for Anders. The Templars that ambushed them got to experience the wrath of Vengeance, and Hawke and his companions bore witness, both to his demonstration and his euthenization of Karl.

Despite this, instead of putting as much distance between himself and the abomination, Hawke accepted him into his merry band, regularly calling on his services. It was a strange group, one constantly fraught with arguments and sarcasm.

Yes, Anders had made friends. Varric was always down for a couple of drinks, some games, and wild stories of varying validity. Bethany, Aedahn's sister, was another mage, one who had never been part of the Circle of Magi, and had a life Anders had wished he had: a loving family who stood by him. And Isabela was…Isabela.

On the other hand, there was Fenris, an elf was such an enmity with anything relating to mages that the only thing keeping him and Anders from killing each other was Hawke. After him, there was Merrill, to whom he ascribed to representing every negative thing that people associated with mages: blood magic, dealing with demons with abandon. The only thing she never did was human sacrifice, though sometimes Anders was sure that if it was the only thing needed in restoring the Dalish people, she would have done it in a heartbeat. Her sweet demeanor made it all rather jarring. Sebastian was too devoted to the Chantry, and would support whatever decision the Grand Cleric and Knight-Commander Meredith made. He was the most disturbed by Anders' bombing of the Chantry. And on the mild of end things, he and Aveline never saw eye to eye. Her dedication to the law, including the ones applied to mages, was a source of contention between the two of them.

Even with the numerous disagreements, Hawke always kept them together in a strange semblance of a family. Not once did they try to kill one another in earnest, nor did the Templars ever come stomping to the doors of the clinic. Anders thought Jarrod had done well by keeping his people in line, but he never heard anything remotely relating to the squabbles Hawke's crew got into on an almost daily basis.

After the debacle that was Karl's "rescue", Anders fully expected Hawke to ditch him after he got the map, but instead, he allowed Anders to come along for his expedition to the Deep Roads. As much as Anders hated being anywhere close to those tainted highways, it had been a stroke of good fortune for him to come along when Bethany, who had also tagged along, began to succumb to the darkspawn corruption. The long path they were forced to take after Bartrand's betrayal exposed her to the taint for too long. Being a Grey Warden, it made sense that Anders was immune, but he never understood how the others escaped unscathed.

Hawke pleaded with Anders, all but begging him to find the Grey Wardens, even after the warnings that he would probably never see Bethany again. After finding Stoud, it had taken some convincing, but in the end, Bethany was set to become a Grey Warden. It was not a cure, strictly speaking, but it would save her from the Circle, and postpone the inevitable by a few decades, provided that the darkspawn did not get to her first.

Returning to Kirkwall, Hawke spent the next couple of years rebuilding his family's fortune, no small thanks to their findings in the expedition. With a sudden abundance of free time, Anders began spending more time with the mage underground. Between the visits he and Hawke made to the Gallows, the Circle of Kirkwall, and Anders' own visits, he gained a unique insight to the running of the place. He made contacts, helped smuggle items in and people out. It felt good, but it was never quite enough for Justice, not enough for Vengeance, and ultimately, Anders agreed. Something drastic had to be done, and a number of plans were hypothesized and discarded for one reason or another.

The Qunari helped to that end. Their squatting in the Kirkwall docks had set the locals on edge, none more so than certain members of the Chantry, who saw the Qunari as a threat and test to their faith. Even with the constant provocation, it was years before the Arishok finally had had enough and attacked the city. By the end of the day, the Viscount of Kirkwall had been slain, leaving the balance of power at a precarious equilibrium. On the plus side, Hawke was named Champion for defeating the Arishok in personal combat and had won considerable popularity with the nobility.

Meredith assumed the "temporary" leadership of the city, much to the ire of both the nobles and First Enchanter Orsino, both wanting Hawke to take the reins. The Knight-Commander's increasingly erratic and tyrannical behavior pushed even some of the most devout Templars and Chantry adherents into conspiring against her, and the mages, on whom the chains continued to tighten, were chomping at the bit for the chance to lash back at their oppressors. A perfect powder keg, with only two inhibitors.

Grand Cleric Elthina was always quick to neutralize any argument between the First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander. She would promote compromise, and trust that the Maker would take care of everything. It seemed asinine, but somehow, she helped keep the peace.

Hawke was already at odds with Meredith, even though he tried to be reasonable with everyone. The nobles had made it no secret that they disliked her, and Hawke, being both Champion and of a prestigious noble line, was a natural choice to take the Viscount's seat, which Meredith continued to stonewall at all costs, paranoid that the mages were plotting something. Further aggravating things was that Hawke, while generally neutral, had a slight leaning to pro-mage. However, he too played the peacekeeper, or in some cases, the peacemaker.

The middle ground needed to be erased, and Anders had a way to do it in a way that would take two birds out with one stone.

Lying directly to his friend's face, Anders gathered the ingredients necessary for the construction of a bomb. After some crafting, and pouring no small amount of magic into the device, he then smuggled it into the Chantry, again, with Hawke's unwitting help. It sat there for less than a week before the opportune time came to set it off.

Meredith was on another one of her rampages, though it was far worse than usual, locking down the Gallows and demanding it be searched from top to bottom, believing Orsino to be harboring blood mages. Hawke arrived to intervene, but could gain no ground from the two obstinate leaders. Meredith even tried using Hawke's mother's death, the act of a lunatic mage, to sway him to her side. When Orsino tried to bring his complaints to the Grand Cleric, Anders made his move.

Activating the bomb, he spent its charging time tearing apart both sides' stances. Hawke was the first to realize what was about to happen. He always did have a knack for sniffing out trouble.

"There can be no half-measures." Anders had told his friend. "There can be no turning back."

Someone more removed from things would have found the fireworks hauntingly beautiful. Those within the city would have argued differently when the gathering cloud of debris exploded, showering the city with flaming rubble. Fires spread quickly, and countless people died before they ever knew what was happening.

"There can be no peace."

That was when Anders began to fall apart in earnest. Yet even with the culprit sitting right in front of them, Meredith called for the Right of Annulment, the mass execution of every mage in Kirkwall. Not wanting a battle that she could not win, the Knight-Commander withdrew to gather her forces, while the mages went to fortify the Gallows, both leaving Anders' judgment to Hawke.

The look of betrayal on Hawke's face ate Anders up inside. Hawke had understood his reasons. He and his family had gone through incredible lengths to keep his father and his sister out of the circle, and thus sympathized with Anders. The point of contention was that he had unknowingly played a role in setting off a war.

Hawke had always tried to see the best in people, even if more often than not he was disappointed. It did not stop him from trying to do right, so he decided to have Anders help clean up his own mess. That was when Sebastian lost it.

Elthina had been his mother figure when his family left him on the Chantry's doorstep, and was an anchor after they were murdered. Sebastian demanded Anders execution in recompense for Elthina's death. When Hawke refused, he stormed off, threatening to finally claim his place as the Prince of Starkhaven for the sole purpose of raising an army and marching on Kirkwall.

Saving that problem for a later time, Hawke gathered his remaining companions, all of whom, despite their concerns, followed the Champion of Kirkwall to the Gallows in order to defend the mages.

The battle was bloody, and in an ironic twist of fate, Orsino turned out to be the blood mage that Meredith was looking for. What's more was that he was connected to the death of Leandra Hawke's murder. Hawke's reaction was hardly surprising, stomping Orsino's mutated head and repeatedly stabbing it.

Tired, Hawke tried once again to get Meredith to back down. Her reaction was unsurprising, but the reason behind it was.

Anders recalled the red lyrium idol Bartrand had spirited out of the Deep Roads when he betrayed Hawke and Varric. He remembered how it drove the dwarf insane. Yet Meredith decided to make a weapon out of the thing and carry it with her at all times, thinking herself of a stronger mind and will. She was wrong.

Dead wrong.

When Hawke and his companions left the Gallows, Meredith was a petrified corpse, the result of drawing on her weapon's power too much in the final clash with almost everyone; Hawke, his friends and allies, and even the Templars who had refused to follow along with her madness. The battle had practically torn the Gallows apart, no small part due to Meredith's actions, and recognizing and acknowledging Hawke's strength and that of his allies, Knight-Captain Cullen stepped aside to allow them to leave.

Putting as much distance between themselves and Kirkwall, Hawke led his friends into the wilderness of the Free Marches. Every one of them were now wanted by the Chantry and none of them wanted to be in Kirkwall when the Templar Order showed up in force. It was a week later when Anders left in the night.

Snapping out of his reverie, Anders realized that the sun was coming up again. Echoes of his encounter with the mages rang in his mind, which he allowed to linger as he got up to go about his day. He was beginning to walk out of his makeshift camp when he was practically ambushed by another one of his tails.

"They'll never listen to you," He said. A man emerged from the forest, wearing dark colored robes and staff across his back. A mage.

"I already knew that," Anders replied.

"Of course you did," the mage said, skeptical. "That's why you walked into the heart of their camp; so you could be ignored."

"My actions have always done a better job speaking for me. Now why have you and your friends been following me for the past week?"

"Isn't it obvious? We're here to offer you a place. One that those other fools denied you."

Anders paused.

"Why would you want to recruit me?" Anders asked.

"Unlike those close-minded fools, we see the value in you, your tenant, and your reputation, the last of which is a more damaging of a weapon than a score of mages."

"Isn't that so?" Anders was disliking the man the more he talked.

"They fear you. They fear Hawke. Because all you would have to do to make their lives more difficult is call our scattered brethren, and then we'd have an army. Properly organized, we could carve through their lines and shatter their resolve. And if we can get Hawke to vouch for us, the more people we can draw to our cause."

Anders stared at the mage. His staff was still on his back, either a sign of trust or an act of stupidity.

"You still haven't told me who you are," he said.

"We are the Mage Citizenry, those who will build a world where mages are free. As for myself, you may call be Davyid."

Not caring for the posturing of the man, Anders squinted an eye. There was something…off about him. Considering he had been to the Deep Roads, met the Architect, had spent years mucking about Kirkwall alongside Hawke, and was currently playing host to a spirit, that was saying something. Or at least made him sensitive to that sort of thing. He considered walking away, but he wanted to see how far this trail led, if it led anywhere at all.

"Join us," Davyid continued, holding out his hand. "And we can put an end to the Chantry, the Templars, and anyone else who would deny us our rightful place in the world. What is your answer, Anders?"

Anders took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

 _"I am likely to regret this,"_ he thought before giving his answer. "Lead the way."


	18. Isolation: Chapter Three

Anders followed Davyid, much like he had done for Cutter. Only this time, the person he was following, even while concealing himself, was confident in every step. He wove through the brush gracefully like a wild cat, disturbing little in his wake. They went like this throughout the day, taking only short breaks, and not very many at that. When dawn had come, Anders recognized some of the landmarks in the distance. In the light of the sun, he noticed how much the leader looked like a ghost. His blond hair was practically white, and his skin was not much better. Conversely, his brown eyes had a certain inhuman quality, standing out among the pale features.

"We are close," said Davyid. "Just beyond the way."

The entrance was nestled in the side of a hill, with some bushes to mark the spot, except as they walked up, Anders did not see an opening, just a meager depression. Davyid kept walking forward, disappearing into with a ripple.

 _So that's how they did it,_ Anders thought as he followed Davyid into the cave.

They descended through a labyrinth, spotting a pair sentries here and there along the way. The smell of people living grew

Here, there was a warmer community. He could see mages practicing their skills, not entirely unlike the way they would have back in the Circle, only here, there was not the ever-present fear of the Templars. No threat of abuse, execution, or worse. If something went wrong, it would be up to other mages to put them down. People protecting those they cared about

 _Or am I deluding myself,_ Anders thought. The whole setup seemed all too perfect when he looked at it. Too showy. _What's your game Davyid?_ Led to a rise in the shelter, Davyid presented Anders to the community.

"Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of a new world, I present to you our hero: the Great Inciter of the Rebellion." Gasps of shock gave way to scattered applause, which swelled with enthusiasm into a veritable crescendo. It was a reaction Anders did not recall ever getting since the Architect incident back in Ferelden. "He has been through many trials since Kirkwall, running from the Templars, shunned by our brethren. I urge you to welcome him as one of us, for without him, we would not be where we are today." The crowd cheered, chanting Anders' name as Davyid led him aside. "We have nothing to immediately accomplish at the moment. I recommend resting or perhaps familiarizing yourself with the others. A great many of them would like to meet you."

"I will be sure to look into that."

"Before we get ahead of ourselves." Davyid turned out to the dispersing assembly. "Elmont," he called out.

"Yes, sir," a greasy haired young man said, stopping among the passing crowd. He looked somewhat weedy, or perhaps wiry.

"Please show Anders around."

"O-of course," Elmont replied.

The boy kept glancing over his shoulder, though his dark hair frequently obscured his vision. He obviously wanted to say something, but held off.

 _Might as well get a feel for my surroundings,_ Anders thought. "Thank you for showing me around. I haven't seen this many circuitous paths since the Deep Roads."

"I really suppose I should thank you." The boy replied.

"Thank me?"

"Yeah, with the whole rebellion. You and Hawke really did well by us, from what I hear."

Anders wanted to correct him. The boy was far to enamored with the hero that he was purported to be, instead of put off by the monster he actually was. _Likely stories pumped to an isolated community,_ Anders thought. Once again, for the, as he could recall, ninth time in the last hour, Anders wondered why he had not simply ditched Davyid.

"How do you figure?"

Elmont paused. "This way, I'll get to actually raise a family. I'll get to see my children grow up without looking over their shoulder at every noise. I can build a home somewhere and pass it on to my children, and their children. I won't worry that someone will come and take my child away just for using something they were born with."

 _Naïve and idealistic, but a more earnest soul than what I was expecting._

"Come on," Elmont continued. "We're almost there." They rounded the corner, coming upon some apartments carved from stone. Definitely not something done by the dwarves, but still sturdy, and above all, simple. Anders was given a place to himself. A bedroll was tucked neatly in the corner and a light dimly illuminated the space, but otherwise, it was empty. "Sparse lodgings, I'm sure," Elmont apologized, "but it's warm, dry, and Aunt Padda has some amazing cooking you should try when you get the chance.

"It will be more than sufficient," Anders replied.

"She's not really our aunt, by the way; we just call her that. Here, I'll take you to meet everyone."

Elmont led Anders through the tunnels of apartments and into what he presumed was a common area. Throughout the large cavern, a few campfires were scattered around, the smaller ones attended by three or four people , while the largest had upwards of a dozen, all mostly comprised of children, adolescents, and the elderly. A middle aged woman tended to the large pot simmering over the fire, who Anders guessed was Aunt Padda. She had maybe a few grey hairs and some age lines, but looked maybe ten years older than him at the most.

"Hey everyone," Elmont called out. "I brought someone for you to meet." Padda was the first to react.

"So this is the one we keep hearing about," said Padda. "Or at least one of them. I honestly thought you'd be taller than this, what with all the stories making the rounds."

"If you heard tales about my being seven feet tall," Anders replied, "I guess I should blame Varric. He always did have a thing for tall tales." It took a small chorus of sycophant chuckles for him to realize the pun he had made. Padda raised an amused eyebrow.

"From what I heard, it was Hawke that made most of the jokes."

"Him or Varric."

Elmont perked up when someone else approached the fire. The girl had curly brown hair and soft brow Fereldan. She wore robes, not entirely dissimilar to the ones he had seen in the past, and had a cloak over it.

"Ilya!" he called. "Come sit with us, love."

"This is Anders."

Ilya nearly flinched at the mention of his name. To her credit, she didn't run away.

"What is it, love?" Elmont asked.

"Don't worry about it. I've gotten used to it, and it's the least I deserve it."

Elmont looked confused.

"I'm not sure what Davyid has been telling you, but starting the rebellion wasn't a pretty event. It took betraying a close friend and spilling of innocent blood to make it happen. And I'm guessing Ilya has probably heard some of the other parts of the story. This isn't a glorious war, this is a struggle for our survival."

"Ilya, could you get the others?" Padda asked. "Dinner is almost ready."

Hastily standing up, the girl left as quickly as she could.

"How long?" Anders asked.

"What?"

"She's pregnant, I'm asking how much longer?"

"Early autumn, I think." Elmont replied.

"How old are you anyways?" Anders asked.

"Nineteen."

Anders blinked. "I thought you were younger. You're older than Jarrod was when he became a Grey Warden."

"I always liked reading the tales of the Hero of Ferelden. The stories always seemed so impossible. I wish I could do things like that, change the world, and inspire thousands. I just don't think I'm strong enough."

"Don't be so quick to sell yourself short. Jarrod Cousland did many things, but rarely did he do them alone. And he got his start when he was not much older than you. Hawke was even younger when he started getting into trouble. You might be closer to that then you realize."

Elmont smiled, but Anders was not finished.

"It would not be an easy journey. I've had the opportunity to travel with both of them, and they both suffered great hardships before ever gaining any proper recognition. Just keep doing what you're doing. Protect your friends and family to the best of your ability, the rest will most likely come to you later."

* * *

Polite as the most people were, Anders still felt distant. It was hard enough letting Hawke and the others get close after leaving the Wardens. With what he had seen and experienced, he might as well have been from another planet. The real problem were some of the babysitters, "war mages" as Davyid called them.

At all hours, Anders could find one waiting outside his door, waiting to ask him questions. He had been on a raid with a few of them. Nothing major, but all the time, he could tell that one was keeping an eye on him at all times. Anytime that Anders went somewhere he was not supposed to, one or two would direct him away.

A week. That was how long it took for things to go south.

Earlier that morning, Davyid had entered the commons, followed by his warriors.

"Anders, Elmont," he called out. "I need to you for an errand."

"What is it?" Elmont asked eagerly.

"There is a village that has been helping us. We haven't heard anything for some time. We're going to see what went wrong, and help them if possible."

All which led them to where they were now. Blood and ashes, but no bodies. To Anders, the smell of sulfur barely registered. However, the scene reminded him of the Vigil when he had first met Jarrod. That was an unholy mess as it was.

"What happened here?" Elmont asked, stunned by the sight.

"Not entirely sure, apart from the obvious. I can make a guess."

"They were attacked because they helped us," said Davyid, suddenly appearing with two of his men flanking him. "The Templars are quite adamant that any who sympathize with our cause are to be purged. This is why we must fight. Fight for our freedom or die in the process."

Anders looked around, trying not to sigh. Davyid was giving him the creeps, and considering he had been to the Deep Roads, met the Architect, had spent years mucking about Kirkwall, and was currently playing host to a spirit, that was saying something. Maybe it was paranoia, or maybe he had been around Fenris for too long, which was really any length of time as far as Anders was concerned. Still, he could not dismiss the notion outright, especially since it was what he was thinking when he first met the man.

 _Let's test a theory..._ Kneeling down, Anders rested his hand on the ground, feeling the ambient energy. It was a skill he had learned because of Justice, but because most of the time, the cause of whatever Jarrod of Aedahn ran into was typically obvious. _That can't be good._ The difference between attacks conducted by mages and Templars were as different as night and day.

"Where are the pyres?" asked Elmont.

 _Good. I'm not the only one who noticed that._

Davyid quickly glanced at Elmont, who was not paying him any attention, then his eyes locked onto Anders, fixing him with a glare. Unfortunately for the leader of the Mage Citizenry, it was weak compared to the looks Anders had received in the past. _And it seems you don't like that._ The leader's gaze quickly softened and he turned away.

Then an earsplitting screech filled the air.

"What was that?" Elmont worriedly asked.

"Trouble." Anders answered. _I think some of Jarrod's and Aedahn's luck rubbed off on me._

In what could be best described as a cross between ambling and trotting, mangled corpses emerged from the broken buildings. Spells pelted their assailants, wiping them out in droves.

"Maker," Elmont gasped. "Are these the people that lived here?!"

"I would assume so." Anders replied, turning another cluster of the creatures to ash.

"There were over two hundred people living here."

"Then I would also assume that there were over two hundred of these things. Don't let up."

Davyid swept an inferno across the street, catching most of the monsters in the heart of the spell. Elmont recoiled as a wave of heat washed over him.

"Hold nothing back," Davyid said, stalking off to poke through the ruins. "Stephan, take everyone else back. There's nothing else we can do here."

Stephan nodded and signaled the others to follow. Returning to the caves, everyone quickly dispersed. Elmont's head lung low, disappointed in their apparent failure. Anders stopped just past the entrance.

 _Something doesn't smell right here,_ Anders thought. Walking to his apartment, he carried his staff in hand, getting more than a few strange looks from his neighbors. At first glance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. His suspicions were confirmed when Elmont came running up to him.

"Have you seen Ilya?" he asked.

"Has this happened before?"

"We had some episodes where people went missing in the caves, but we always found them before too long. Davyid would have a look at them and they would be fine afterwards."

"Someone's kidnapping our people while we're away. Surely Davyid would have noticed."

"Oh, I'm sure he knows."

"What are you implying?" Elmont's tone was a mixture of accusation and concern.

"I'll just say that anyone who is jumping at the chance to recruit a known abomination is not someone you generally want to be associated with. We need to take this carefully when we confront him."

"Confront him? What do you mean an-" Another arrival interrupted Anders before he could answer.

Padda looked concerned. "I had a look around," she said. "Soontir is also missing"

"That makes two people currently missing," Anders thought aloud. "Those people who disappeared. Are they all battle-mages now?" Elmont blanched in dawning realization.

"Maker preserve us," Elmont muttered. "That means Stephan, Orina-"

"Yes."

"This…this isn't what I wanted." Anders smacked the young man upside the head. "Get a hold of yourself. While I doubt we'll be able to save all of them, we save who we can and eliminate those who can't."

"And Davyid…"

"He's most likely the furthest gone out of all of them. I'm sorry."

Elmont growled out an unintelligible curse, punching a hole into the cavern wall, a telltale flare indicating the use of a spell. Anders set a hand on Elmont's shoulder as he rested his head against the wall. "We trusted him! I trusted him with my family, my future…"

"We'll get them back and put a stop to this. But whatever happens, if it looks like it is going to come down to a fight, run and find a solid structure to hide behind."

"But-"

"No! I know you want to save the others, especially Ilya and your child, but if it comes to a fight, and you don't follow these instructions, there's a very good chance you won't survive. Have I made that clear?"

Elmont swallowed and nodded.

Approaching the guarded areas he had been directed away from before, Anders let out a sleep spell at the two guards. Both fell unconscious, falling to the ground like a sack of potatoes when the spell slammed into them. Elmont and a number of others walked in behind him, eyeing the unconscious men.

"Have someone keep an eye on them," Anders ordered. Elmont pointed to two of his fellows, who stayed back, keeping their eyes and staves trained on the guards while everyone else continued forward.

The tunnel opened up into a cavern of peculiar symmetry, centered around a raised platform that was higher than Anders was tall. At the top, Davyid stood over the unconscious forms of Ilya and Soontir. Eight of his people surrounded the girls and a strange dome made of grey light pulsed like a heartbeat.

"Good for you to join us, Anders." Davyid said, not even looking at them. "I figured we would be speaking with each other soon enough."

"Is that a fact?"

"You are one of the few who understands our cause. You championed it for years, actively working towards the freedom of mages all over the world."

"And those villagers?"

"You of all people know that victory cannot be achieved without sacrifice."

Anders scoffed. "You know, you did say that we had a lot in common. After spending time with you, I think I have realized in what manner you were right, abomination." There was a pregnant pause, the room falling into a dead silence, everyone too stunned to really react.

"So very smart," Davyid said, his voice an unnatural distortion. With a snap of its fingers, the abomination's minions took up position behind their master. Turning around, Davyid looked at the mages the intruders, his unblinking gaze forcing them to begin backing away, or outright run for cover. "You should have kept your nose out of this, boy."

"I think you forgot that this was your idea to bring me here in the first place." Anders replied.

"Oh, fine," he said finally. "Have it your way." With another snap of his fingers, "Davyid's" minions readied their staves, more emerging from the shadows, and dove into combat.

Swinging his staff out, Anders cut down the closest of his assailants. Their bodies were knocked around like ragdolls. Vengeance joined in the fray, rending their opponents' apart. Neither the spirit nor his host saw them as much of a challenge, until one slashed his hand open and reached for them. At first, Anders was staggered. When he heard chanting, he redoubled his efforts and blasted the offending thrall off his feet, crushing his ribcage on itself before he could finish his spell, whatever it was.

All went quiet. More than twenty bodies littered the cave. With haste, Anders burned the remains, hoping to deny a curious or malevolent spirit from laying claim to the surplus of mage corpses, especially "Davyid". Cracking his neck, he turned his attention to the other abomination.

"If I were to make a guess," Anders said. "You would be classified as a desire demon, or perhaps pride."

The abomination laughed, dismissing the dome and hopping down the steps in a single leap without breaking stride.

"Hardly. I am something far greater. You foolish mortals are the ones who came up with those categories, and while I admit that most others do fall into those quaint categories, you have barely scratched the sur-" A lance of pain set the abomination howling.

"I'm sorry," Anders said, entirely unapologetic. "But I have better things to do with my time than rehash old arguments with you."

"You insect!"

"Yes, I know. You plan to swear a horrible death upon me. Just shut up and die."

The air around the "Davyid" bristled, but it was not fast enough to counter Vengeance's attack, blasting off a hunk of demon's host. Instead of healing the damage, the demon transformed the vessel, revealing a monstrous form.

"You dare?" it roared. "I am Ambition! I am-" . A sudden slash of arcane energy split the creature apart.

"You're dead," Anders countered. _Great, now I sound like someone from one of Varric's writings._ The demon could not hold its host together and began to succumb mortality along with it.

"No!" it shouted. "We can work together, accomplish so much more."

"You would turn me into another of your puppets, or try to steal my power for yourself. No, you die here."

"Not without you!" Reaching to his surviving minions, Ambition wrenched them apart, draining them of blood. The fractures on his form stitched back together and he flew at Anders with a roar of fury, flinging astreaming fire spell. Vengeance lashed out with a counterstrike, a blast of raw arcane energy, sending Ambition to whatever fate awaited his kind upon death and launching his disintegrating remains through the roof of the cave.

As the dust settled, Elmont and the other emerged from their hiding places. When it was obviously clear, Elmont made for the dais. Checking her vitals and running some diagnostic spells on both Ilya and Soontir, he sighed in relief. Everyone else, however, remained on edge. The display of both Vengeance and their combined power had truly been a sight to behold. Now everyone knew. Some looked like they were ready to run. Others looked ready for a final stand.

"Stand back, fiend!" one warned, raising his staff in a quivering hand.

"Don't worry about him, Kodan." said Elmont. "He's not our enemy."

"What about the-"

"I remember the stories of how the Hero of Ferelden fought alongside a mage inhabited by a spirit." Standing tall, Elmont turned to face them. "An abomination is an abomination because of how one acts, not simply by working with a spirit of the Fade."

Anders felt ashamed being defended by the young man, but was grateful nonetheless.

"I see that my presence worries you," Anders said "so I will go my own way from here on. I will leave you with this: the time for unity is now, but I am not the one to facilitate it. Look to another to lead you to war, and to victory." With that, Anders walked away. The remnants of the Mage Citizenry looked at each other.

"What do we do now?" Kodan asked.

"Get the word out," Elmont commanded. "We need to leave as soon as possible. Someone is bound to have seen the light show."

"Where are we going?"

"We need to find others. Anders has seen some of them, and I am sure there are more to be found. If there was one thing Davyid was right about, we need to fight for our freedom or die in the attempt."

Standing at the mouth of the new opening he had created, Anders pleasantly smirked. Maybe redemption was too far from him, but that would not stop him from trying. He knew where he needed to go. He had to go back to where it all started.

He needed to go back to Kirkwall.

* * *

In the cavern deep beneath the surface Thedas, a lone scientist worked furiously in his lab. Outside were his bodyguards, watching for potential threats that had the tendency to crop up ever since the first darkspawns incursion on the land.

Most of them were what had become known as disciples; darkspawn that had ingested the blood of Grey Wardens. A few were of the standard darkspawn variety.

The only anomaly among his companions was the lone elven ghoul standing with her arms crossed over her chest and a dwarven greatsword strapped to her back. Her cold glare was focused and vigilant, her loyalty was unquestionable. They were not very talkative companions, but they were effective at their jobs.

A gust of wind blew through the caves, disturbing some of the lighter items strewn about the lab and blowing out the torches. If it had not been for his centuries of being underground, the scientist might have been blind.

Noting the disturbance, the scientist's protectors moved to ready themselves for an imminent assault while he bound his long, wispy grey hair out of his face and pulled both halves of his staff from their sheathes. The magical foci had been split a long time ago, but was now rejoined by a mechanical apparatus the scientist had designed.

But instead of a massive assault, only three figures walked into the room.

One was a human, wearing battered armor and showed signs of being a ghoul. The other two were elves, but so incredibly different it was astonishing. The young woman of roughly average height with a slight build and carried a staff, a mage without any doubt. The male was a juggernaut, standing well over eight feet tall, muscular, but not bulky, and had an intimidating presence that was exuded throughout the cave.

Rather than attack, the disciples and other darkspawn under the scientist's control instinctively retreated out of the path of the newcomer and his companions. The elven ghoul on the other hand, was not so inclined, practically flying across the room with her sword in hand.

The human ghoul met her halfway, crossing swords with his opposite number. Landing on a table, the human delivered a kick to the elf's midsection. He was preparing to continue the assault when an oppressive wave fell on the room. Hopping down, he returned to the juggernaut's side, bowing his head in penitence.

"My apologies, Master," he said.

"What do you want?" the scientist challenged.

The taller elf merely looked down at the comparatively tiny human with his deep red eyes. "I am looking for allies, those who wish to see a new era, a new world." The elf said with a deep voice that made the stone around them vibrate. "I happened to notice your presence on my way to the surface. Do you mind telling what you are doing?"

The scientist winced at the sudden calm the Master was showing, but shrugged it off. It had been a long time since he had a proper conversation.

"I have been researching a way to remove the taint," he said. "I have halted its progression, but it still remains."

"I see," the Master replied. "You are not a ghoul. Are you perhaps a Grey Warden?"

"Yes, but how is that relevant?"

"I too seek to remove the taint in a permanent fashion, and I am gathering allies to assist me in this endeavor. You carry with you something unique that should prove to be very useful in the future." The Master paused, staring as if peering into the scientist's soul. "I see that you are hesitant. Perhaps I should show you what I have to offer." The Master left the lab, beckoning his followers and the scientist to follow. Being led into the larger cavern, he saw what looked to be a dragon, but more majestic and far more powerful.

It took a moment for him to recognize it as an Archdemon.

"Do not worry," the elf said, anticipating his thoughts. "He is not like his brethren you Grey Wardens have faced over the years."

"One of the Old Gods." The scientist gasped. It had been a long time since he had been this surprised. The scientist's narrowed his eyes at the Master. No one alive would know of him. Four hundred years had made him forget even his own name. All that was left was his unyielding will and vague memories of the Circle, being a blood mage, and his time with the Wardens when they dealt with the fourth blight. Curiosity, however, overcame apprehension.

"Who are you?" the scientist asked.

The Master gave him a blank look. A vague sense of mirth glinted behind his red eyes.

"I?" He intoned. "I am that which stands at the end of all things."

 **A/N: And that's a wrap for Isolation. As you can see, you got quite a bit of exposition along the way despite its short run. This hopefully gave you a general idea of how my playthroughs of Origins, Awakening, and II all went, and restored whatever hope you had lost in Requiem (I promise I'm not always that evil).**

 **This was originally going to be one of a 3-5 part prologue (the beginning of Anders' POV chapter one), but like the other parts, it grew out of its original bounds, requiring a separate story, which continued to grow and required a few rewrites, additions, and whatnot, making it take longer than I would have liked.**

 **Isolation clocks in just under 13,000 words, which technically puts it at the length of a novella. Requiem clocked in at +36,000 words, reaching the upper length of a novelette. Collectively, we are now pushing well into novel-length territory (as far as Wikipedia is concerned; other sources say differently), and this is just part two.**

 **With that out of the way, now it's time to head over to Tevinter. For you fans of Fenris: rejoice. Your favorite brooding elf is making a return.**

 **Prepare for the Revolution.**


	19. Revolution: Chapter One

12th of Eluviesta, 9:38 Dragon

Vaelnor stood at the foot of the high seat in the meeting chamber. Long had it remained empty, awaiting the true Master to return. Dozens of seats, all lower and simpler in design, circled around the room, equidistance from the center, all looking inward; the seats of the generals and masterminds that would see the Master's dream come to pass. His own seat was to the right of the high seat, just as it had always been, but untouched in the intervening years since the Insurrection all those centuries ago.

"I see you received my message," Vaelnor said as he heard someone enter the chamber.

"It has been a long time, Vaelnor" Mhadek replied, pleasently smiling.

"Indeed it has. How are our brethren on the outside doing?"

"Eagerly awaiting the promised day. As are we all."

Vaelnor smiled at his confederate. "The time of waiting is at an end." Mhadek's amber eye glowed in the darkness, a rare outside sign of emotion in the man.

"How soon?" Mhadek asked eagerly.

"He arrived topside this morning."

"I still do not agree with what he has brought with him."

Mhadek and Vaelnor looked over the darkened corner where a woman clad in heavy armor stood almost flush against the wall, maroon cape flowing down her back. Her grey eyes were fixed on the opposite wall. Her black hair was done up in a neat bun that accommodated her helmet, which was neatly folded up behind her head.

"Anleya," Mhadek said with a respectful nod, though the tone of his voice hinted otherwise. Vaelnor, however, gave her a disproving glare.

"It is our sacred duty to serve the Master," he said. "As a member of the triptych, it is your duty to set the example in this regard, and to the highest degree. If he chooses to recruit humans and ghouls to aid in the bringing of the new dawn, it is not our place to object."

Any further debate was cut off when an invisible wave hit the three of them. The doors to the chamber flew open as the Master marched into room with an old shemlen with thin, stringy hair. Anleya wisely held her tongue. Even in his diminished state, the Master was an imposing figure, and his aura filled the room. Both the triptych rallied next to Vaelnor and bowed their heads in unison. The Master had never been one for overt prostration.

"Welcome, Master," Vaelnor said.

The Master's regarded the Hierarch with interest. "Your enduring loyalty is noted," he said. "And your efforts will save us a great deal of time in the awakening of the Apocalyptian." He glanced to the others. "I take it that these are children born in the intervening years of my absence."

"Yes, Master," Vaelnor said, "Anleya is the commander of military forces, while Mhadek has been keeping us informed of happenings beyond Arladurgen."

"Hmm…we will see how they fare compared to their predecessors. At any rate, our new associate has some skills that should prove worthwhile. Ensure he has the resources to continue his work."

"As you command, Master." Vaelnor looked at the shemlen. "By what name do you go by, human?"

"My name is of little relevance," The Scientist replied, "Even if I could remember it."

"I will see that we come up with an appropriate nomenclature for you, but in the meantime, what environment are you accustomed to?"

"Any space that I can set up a laboratory. I'm not particularly picky."

Vaelnor nodded. "We have setup already in place. I am certain it should more than suffice."

"A bold claim," the Scientist said, raising his eyebrow.

You will understand soon enough. Anleya, see our guest to the laboratory."

A twinge of displeasure crossed the general's face as she moved to comply with her orders, the Scientist falling in behind her as they left the room. The Master stood still as the doors closed again.

"Come, Vaelnor," he said. "We have much to discuss."

* * *

 _"Never underestimate the collective will of a down-trodden people, nor overlook the one purported to be weak, especially when he himself affirms it."_ \- Tarethia

Braden stifled a yawn. He was probably the laziest of the magisters of Tevinter, and his colleagues never failed to point that out. His family's holdings were small, recently established. Most were quickly dismissive of him, not even bothering to try to undercut his standing. His saving grace was the success his province had experienced since he ascended to his seat in the council. That at least silenced most of his detractors.

Others were still perturbed at his inclusion, and just waited for the opportunity to remove him from what little power he held.

 _Like this one,_ Braden thought.

Riding in on an opulent chariot, Anicetus waved to the crowd, basking in the glory of the moment. Many regarded him as one of the most powerful men in Tevinter, and definitely among the wealthiest. Hopping off his chariot, he passed his cloak off to a slave.

"I apologize for this spectacle," said Anicetus

"No," Braden scoffed. "You're not sorry at all."

Anicetus glanced at his opponent, smirking slightly. "Indeed."

"I still cannot believe you went through all of this hustle and bustle over a simple jape."

"It is not about the small slight. It is for what it means to my family when a house as small as yours insulting our name means to the lower people."

"I do not recall my words being directed towards your house. In fact, I think it is quite nice."

"You know what I mean," Anicetus growled. "Do you not have any whimsical nuggets of wisdom? I understand that you are quite fond of them."

"Spare me a moment…how about this: even the smallest stone can begin an avalanche."

"Quite appropriate for your case," Anicetus chuckled. "In fact that is entirely the reason for all of this. But, surely you can do better than that?"

Braden shrugged. "Not at the moment. My mental fortitude is being directed towards this duel."

"A shame. Perhaps I can return the favour for once."

"You are welcome to try."

"'Every word you speak is more fuel for your pyre'."

"Spoken like a true philosopher. And I intend to burn quite brightly."

Anicetus huffed. "You still carry a dagger on your person."

"Oh, this?" he mused, patting the sheath at his shoulder. The blade and hilt were black, soaking in the light without a hint of a reflection. The guard was golden, a ring on either side of the blade with a small talon jutting out from each side. "I cannot allow another hand to touch this blade."

"Then perhaps you should have thought of that before you agreed to the terms of the duel," Anicetus said snippily.

"Quite so," Braden lightly replied. Stepping to the center of the arena, he removed the blade and placed it on the packed dirt of the arena floor. "I will leave it at the center then. Equal distance between you and myself." Returning to his starting position, Braden looked over his shoulder. "Defeat me, and the weapon is yours."

"I would take it anyways," Anicetus replied. "And where is your friend?"

"Who?"

"The elf. The one who is always lurking around wherever you go."

"She had some private business to attend to. Why do you care?"

"We would not want anyone to…disturb the results of this duel."

"You mean you don't want anyone to interfere with your interference in case things don't go your way," Braden jeered.

Anicetus stared daggers at the other magister. "I am going to enjoy this far more than I probably should."

"After you."

Anicetus launched a fireball, narrowly missing Braden as he rolled out of the way. Sprinting forward, Braden launched a salvo of spells. Erecting a spell shield, Anicetus grinned as the spells harmlessly impacted against the barrier, channeling some of the energy into more power for himself for his counter attack.

Dancing around the spells, Braden tried to get closer to Anicetus, while avoiding being turned to dust. Bolts of lightning and fireballs blistered inches from his skin. His spells were countered at every turn.

 _Just a little longer,_ he thought.

Juts of stone sprang from the ground, forcing Braden further into Anicetus' range. One sprang from underneath him, launching him several feet into the air. A fist of stone flew from Anicetus' fingertips, catching Braden in the chest and slamming him against the wall. Confident in his victory, Anicetus moved to finish his opponent off.

"I'm glad I remembered that spell," Braden said, hopping back to his feet, dusting himself off.

With a roar, Anicetus fired off a barrage of spells, all of which veered around Braden, who barely shifted around. Weathering the assault, Braden waited for an opening, slowly stepping towards his foe.

 _There._

Extending his hand forward, a blast of telekinetic energy knocked Anicetus off his feet, rolling along the ground. His clothes unkempt and hair ruffled, Anicetus scooted away from Braden, dragging himself to his feet. His staff was far beyond his reach, broken into several pieces.

"Cheater!" Anicetus coughed. "There's no way you could possibly be this strong. I would have known it."

"You have blinded yourself to every possibility that would suggest that you could be felled by someone you perceived to be weaker than you. Of course you couldn't have known."

Eyes wide with fear, Anicetus dove for Braden's dagger. A boot crushed his fingers as they slipped around the hilt, causing the magister to scream out in pain. Braden wrenched the dagger from Anicetus' hand, breaking the man's fingers in the process. The glint in Braden's eyes when he drove the dagger into his fellow magister's skull was the last thing Anicetus saw.

The audience had fallen silent as Braden walked away. Reaching the shadows of the vomitorium, a hooded figure joined up with him, matching his steps while walking slightly behind him.

"I take it you have made your rounds," said Braden.

"Of course," she coolly replied.

"Then let us get this show on the road."

* * *

Torrential downpours were common in during the onset of spring in Tevinter. The snow had already passed, but it was no less cold than any other place. Fenris smirked bitterly as he trudged up the road. Anyone else would have stayed indoors in this sort of weather, or loudly complained if they had to go out. Fenris was accustomed to discomfort. Even spending years in Kirkwall, he had done little to nothing in regards to tidying up the mansion he had squatted in. Were it not for the visits from Hawke and Isabella, he probably would have ignored the peculiar scents that would come from spoiled food.

Hawke. Kirkwall. The only pleasant memories he had. How that man had managed to convince Fenris to stick around for so long, in the company of mages no less, two of whom had nearly gotten him killed at one point or another, he had yet to understand. But when he considered the number of times he managed to talk himself in and out of trouble, he supposed he should not really be surprised. And that was before he considered what he had done to help him in his quest against Danarius.

He still got a warm feeling when he remembered reaching into his former master's chest, crushing the man's heart. The thought that he nearly did the same to his...sister. The word carried both sorrow and bitterness. He thought that meeting someone from his family, connecting to his past would help, but it had almost gotten him swept back into Danarius' clutches. Almost. Again, Hawke had pulled him out of the fire.

It still came back to what else Hawke had gotten him into.

Anyone who spent any time around Anders knew that he had...issues. An abomination, which even in the best of times should have been put down in short order. Couple that with an obsession with the "plight of the mages", he was a disaster waiting to happen. That he decided to take his final step off the deep end while he was with Hawke was more than a little frustrating.

The ensuing conflict had caused troubles for more than just Kirkwall, and anyone remotely associated with Hawke or Anders, which happened to include Fenris, had targets painted on them the moment word got out. _I wonder if Sebastian had anything to do with that_ , he thought. Thankfully, Isabella had gotten them out in time.

In a month, their motley band was forced to split up. Anders had been the first to go, leaving one night without a word. Bethany had to leave next before the Grey Wardens decided to come after her for failing to return from her "vacation". Isabella had her own business to attend to. Aveline left with Donnic not long after. He and Varric were the last to leave, neither of them very happy about the prospect. They had decided that the group, regardless of its dwindling status, made them easier to spot, something that none of them could afford. It had been hard to leave. Hawke had given him a measure of stability, of purpose. He had become something familiar when everything else seemed so foreign and in constant flux.

Hawke and Merrill were probably hiding out somewhere in the Free Marches still. Meanwhile, he was trudging through the muddy road back to what was the last place he wanted to be: Tevinter.

Ironically, it was the place with the fewest people actively looking for him. One would think killing off a magister and his retinue would be a cause for more people hunting him in Tevinter, not fewer. He was still a few days from the border, and his current pursuers would dog him all the way if they could.

 _I really need to get out of the rain,_ Fenris thought. _Where is that inn?_

The location he was looking for presently came into view, lights gleaming in the rainy night. Exhaling sharply, Fenris picked up his pace slightly. He was closed to soaked, but a warm fire and some food were an enticing goal. Arriving at the door, he rapped his knuckles against the hard wood. A young woman with blonde hair opened the door, mist spraying onto her apron.

"Hard to imagine anyone would want to be out in this rain," the woman said.

"Trying to make up for lost time," Fenris replied. "May I come in?"

"Yes, sorry about that." The woman stepped aside, letting him walk past her. "A lot of people are holed up here right now, and that storm won't quit." Closing the door, she walked alongside Fenris. "I'd offer to take your coat, but this storm took us all by surprise. A lot of people came here to get out of the rain, so there's no place to put it right now. You can take a seat by the fire. I'll get one of the girls to get you something warm to drink."

"That would be much appreciated, thank you," Fenris replied. Taking off his cloak would be rather dangerous. He had made some modifications to his armor in the past few months, but with the lyrium markings, he still stood out like a sore thumb. He did not need to give the Templars more clues to follow.

A pounding on the door made everyone in the room go silent.

"Open up!" a voice boomed from the other side. "

Fenris glanced at the door. Unless he wanted to jump through the window.

The Templars all but marched into the inn, cloaks and armor dripping from the rain.

 _Figures they would turn up_ , Fenris thought. The fact that Templars were brushing this close to the border of Tevinter was troubling.

"Have any of you seen anyone suspicious?" the Templar asked, his underlying tone more demanding.

"This is an inn on the road to Tevinter. Could you help me narrow the list down."

"We are looking for the criminal styling himself as 'The Ghost of Shartan'."

Fenris winced, but still allowed himself to smirk ever so slightly. Another name that had been tagged to him during his travels. It was more amusing than being referred to as the Dread-Wolf. However, it meant that his attempts to remain relatively anonymous had failed. Whether the Templars had connected the pseudonyms to one of Hawke's companions was still up for debate.

Fanning out, the Templars prodded the patrons with questions, forcibly inspecting each person. Being the most conspicuous person in the room, Fernis prepared for a confrontation and moved his hand to rest on the hilt of his knife.

"You," one said, "remove your covering."

Fenris ignored him, keeping his eyes fixed on the flames in front of him. The Templar stomped up to his side, smacking him against the shoulder.

"Hood off," the Templar ordered. Fenris thought he sounded young, likely a new recruit.

When the man's hand reached for the hood, Fenris' hand whipped away from his belt and back. The fact that the knife had been deposited in the man's esophagus made it impossible to alert his comrades. Choking on the foreign object, the Templar collapsed, clutching his throat. His allies quickly noticed when their friend fell.

Abandoning their search, the Templars began pushing towards the hearth where Fenris was still sitting. The first to reach him drew his sword.

"Present yourself for punishment, murderer," he commanded.

Standing slowly, Fenris threw his hood back, his silver hair, closely shorn on the sides, plain for all to see. His lyrium markings glowed faintly against the firelight. Expecting a fight, the other patrons scattered like roaches in the light.

"It's him!" the Templar shouted.

Ducking under the man's swing, Fenris rolled the first man over his shoulder, shoving a stool at the next, hopping over the man as he stumbled forward. In the middle of his jump, he unlatched the belt holding his greatsword in place. The noncombatants scrambled out of the way as the Blade of Mercy swung free. The Templar immediately in front of him raised his shield, but Fernis redirected his swing, allowing him to catch him in the throat with his elbow. The first tried to get up, and was sent into the fireplace with a heavy kick.

Becoming intangible, he rolled through the next man and drove elbow into the man's back, cracking several of his ribs. Turning his attention to the next Templar, Fenris drove his swrod into the man's chest, then kicking him into the next while pulling his sword free. Another Templar circled around, hoping to catch Fenris while he was distracted.

No time to properly swing his sword around, Fenris phased through the Templar's swing, reaching into the man's chest with his free hand. Pulling his hand free, blood spurted out as the Templar's heart was torn from the his chest. Pointing his sword at the remaining Templars, he gave them a sly grin.

"Who's next?" Fenris growled.

One bolted for the door, but unfortunately exposed himself to a thrown knife, nailing him in the base of his skull. His companions charged, weapons and voices raised. Fenris flew past the two of them in a whirlwind, bifurcating both of them in a single motion.

Grabbing a cloth from a shocked serving girl, Fenris wiped his sword clean and slung it back into its cradle. The shock on the other patrons' faces reminded him he was not in Kirkwall. Nobody seemed to care when a battle broke out. The mistress of the inn looked like she was torn between indignant rage and abject horror.

He walked over to the Templar who had crawled out of the fireplace, knocking him unconscious and throwing him over his shoulder.

"Sorry about the mess," he said, tossing her a coin purse as he strode to the door, "I will trouble you no further." Adjusting his cloak, he stepped back out into the rain, letting the door slam shut behind him.

 **A/N: I've gone back and tweaked some things in the first chapter, as FFN does not like strange characters for breaks. It should help with the clarity.**


	20. Revolution: Chapter Two

Fenris sighed. The rain persisted, and hail began to mix with the precipitation, dinging off of the Templars armor. The man was still unconscious, but there were still some answers Fenris wanted. The last few times he had run into the Templars, he did not have the opportunity to drag one off for interrogation.

Dropping the man next to the tree, Fenris stuffed his hand into the Templar's chest until he woke up.

"Sweet Andraste!" the Templar cried out. "What was that?"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with," Fenris replied. "For now," he added ominously.

"You! You're one of Hawke's cohorts."

Fenris sighed. "Either I grabbed the wrong one or I hit you in the head too hard. I thought you would have been better informed." Fernis stood and reached for his spare knife, idly remembering the one he had let behind at the inn. "I suppose any time interrogating you would be wasted."

"What?! Wait! No, I'll tell you whatever you wish to know."

"What's your name?"

"What?

Fenris could hear Hawke making a smart remark about the response. "Your name. I trust you can understand and remember that much."

"J-Justin."

"Well Justin, are there anymore Templars nearby?"

"N-no."

Fernis backhanded the man, gouging his cheek open. "Lying isn't going to get you anywhere, Justin."

"Are you expecting me to betray my brothers?"

"No. I'm actually hoping to avoid them if at all possible. Do I need to repeat the question?"

Justin bit his lip. "We were part of a company," he said hesitantly. "We were supposed to meet up further north to watch the road into Tevinter after we followed our lead. Said that they were expecting you that way."

"I appreciate the information, but I am afraid I must apologize."

"For wha-?"

Justin's breath was cut off when Fenris drove his fist into his chest.

"For this. I can't have you bringing anyone else after me."

Fenris closed the dead Templar's eyes and walked off, drawing his hood over his head. The hail died down, but the air was still cold.

"So they're waiting on the road?" he pondered aloud. "That shouldn't be too hard to avoid."

The rain persisted, and the hail left a thin sheet of white on the ground. The melting ice crunched underneath his boots as he walked along the road. He still some distance from the border. If Justin's information was correct, he would have to start taking back trails. For that, he needed some light additional light and clear skies.

The forest opened into a field, a farmhouse situated in the forward acres. A shed leaned against the house, and a large barn stood off a ways. A weathered fence encompassed the property, undoubtedly the result of some considerable time and labor with how large the field was.

Fenris approached the farm carefully. Against the white of the melting hail on the ground, any abrupt motion would give him away, and he did not want the residents or the Templars to ever know that he had been there. Creeping through the trees, Fernis slipped to the barn and through the doors. Inside, he was greeted with a surprisingly well maintained interior, and a fresh smell of livestock. The animals were scarcely disturbed by his presence, quickly quieting down after their curiosity was sated. Climbing to the loft, Fenris settled down to rest.

Which lasted for about five minutes.

The door to the barn creaked open, a man with a lantern in hand. Biting back a swearword, Fenris got up and slinked over to another spot, better shielded by the dark. He stepped lightly on his toes, taking care not to make a sound. The farmer poked his head in the pens, checking on the animals. He hummed a little tune, slightly off key, while he made his rounds below, then climbed up and poked his head above the loft. To Fenris' silent thanks, the animals had apparently been fed, and the man climbed back down without a further look.

When the man left the barn again, Fernis slumped against the wall, sighing in relief before dozing off.

No idea how long he napped, Fenris' eyes snapped open again as he reached for his sword, rolling to his knees and peering over the edge of the loft. No one had entered the barn, but the animals were becoming frantic.

Hopping over the side, Fenris crept to the door and looked outside in the direction of the house. No lights were seen in the windows. Leaving the way he had come in, Fenris circled around the farmhouse to get a better look. Along the way, he saw shapes moving inside, illuminated by a lantern. He was about to ignore it when he saw the Templars at the door. Fenris approached trough the garden and strained his ears to hear.

"Can I help you?" the farmer asked.

"We're looking for a criminal," the Knight-Captain said. "An elf with white hair. Have you seen him?"

"No, I haven't."

"He was said to have been seen in this region last. We will see if you speak the truth."

"I'm telling you, I haven't seen anything."

The Knight-Captain turned to some of his men. "Check the barn."

 _Just my luck,_ Fenris thought angrily. A close inspection would reveal his presence in short order.

Daring a closer look, Fenris snuck into the next collection of bushes. The Templars searched the house, unaware of how close their quarry was. From the voices, there was only a handful of people inside, all of whom were quickly corralled into the common area of the house.

As expected, a Templar soon came running back.

"Sir, we found something in the loft," he reported. "A fresh puddle. Not from the weather."

"Ridiculous!" the farmer protested. "I checked an hour ago. I found nothing out of the ordinary. And even they managed to hide, people try to camp there all the time. You-"

"Where are you hiding him?" the Knight-Captain demanded.

"I swear I don't know what you're talking about."

The Knight-Captain cut the man down.

"Search the house," he ordered. "He has to be hiding close by. Look for anything that might give us a clue."

"What about the rest?" a Templar asked.

The Knight-Captain gave the house a derisive sniff.

"Kill the rest," he said finally. "They are clearly corrupted."

Screams erupted from the house, but were quickly silenced. Templars exited the house, searching the property. While they were distracted, Fenris jogged to the house, unnoticed by the Templars.

Grabbing the first Templar he found, Fenris jabbed his knife into the man's neck and threw him against the wall, diving back into the shadows. The ruckus drew two more to his location. Their backs facing him, Fenris jumped out and grabbed the two men, wrapping an arm around each of their necks and snapping them both in quick succession. Drawing his sword he withdrew from the house, following the path to the fence.

The Templars approached from all sides, but in their armor, the mire slowed them down, allowing Fenris to take them down at a steady pace. One by one, two by two, Fenris fought them, his lighter armor and superior agility allowing him to maneuver around his foes and throw them off balance while keeping himself free to deal with the others. Relentlessly, they pressed towards him, each death enraging them further.

Watching his men fall, the Captain pulled back into the house with two of his subordinates, shutting the door behind them. Cutting down the last of the men outside, Fenris approached the door, flourishing his sword. Kicking the door off the hinges, Fenris surveyed the entry way. No Templars waited for him.

Inching forward, Fenris glanced at the shadows. His opponents would be waiting for him further inside.

 _But where?_

Stepping to the doorway leading out of the hall, Fenris stopped short. Too many places to look at once, and the near complete darkness made his natural night vision borderline useless, which made him wonder if the Templars would actually be where he thought they were. Taking a deep breath, Fenris began to glow blue and leaped forward through the wall.

Jumping through walls was typically painful, and his allies could never follow him, which is why he almost never did it. More importantly, the thicker the wall, the more likely he would either get stuck or forcibly ejected in a random direction. The stone structure of Kirkwall had scarcely given him the opportunity to make use of his powers like this.

The pain made the surprise from the Templars worth it. The nearest man was caught off guard, and was slow bringing up his shield to block. Depriving his of the shield, Fenris slashed the Templar's throat and parried the swing from the next, running him through the chest. Pulling his sword out, he turned to face his remaining opponent. The Captain ran up to him, flinging a lantern and stomping his foot. An invisible wave washed over Fenris. He recognized a cleansing aura when he felt it; his powers shorted out when it happened.

But now there was only one left. Steel met steel, sparks glinting in the darkness as the two men clashed. The Knight-Captain was clearly experienced, and an excellent swordsman at that. When he pulled out a second blade, he nearly caught Fenris by surprise. Still, the elf had spent years fighting from Seheron to Sundermount. Even without using his powers, the fight was over in short order, leaving the Knight-Captain in a pool of his own blood.

A scuffling drew Fenris' attention. Stalking towards the window, he readied his blade and threw away the curtain. To his surprise, he found a little girl, curled up against the wall, shivering. Cleaning off his sword, Fenris placed it back in its cradle. He gave the room a quick survey. The bodies of the inhabitants were strewn around one corner. Clean cuts, but dead all the same. Fenris led the girl into another room away from the carnage, sitting her down on a chair in the dining room.

"What's your name, girl?" Fernis asked.

The girl looked up and stared at the elf blankly. Not a shred of emotion played on her face and she did not say a word.

"Is there anyone you can stay with? You can't stay here."

Blank stare.

"Can you understand what I'm saying?"

The girl nodded and sat up.

 _Progress,_ Fenris thought."Can you speak?"

A look of confusion.

"My name is Fenris. What is your name?"

The girl looked around, hopped to her feet and began running around searching for something. She looked like she was about to run outside, but thought better of it when she saw the rain.

"Are you named after a flower?"

She turned back to him and nodded.

"Ugh…I'll just call you Rain for now. I don't know enough flower names in common, much less any other language to begin guessing your name."

Surely the girl had family to take her in. Then again, in all likelihood, it would be several days, or longer, before anyone else came to check on the house. Leaving the girl unattended with several dozen corpses would not be wise. He could take her and leave at an orphanage in the next town. The map had a town noted within a few miles of the border. It would be as good a place as any to leave the girl.

"There's no way you can make the journey on foot," he thought out loud. "Sit here. I'll grab some things for the road."

Fenris looked around the house. He found some clothes for the girl, plus a spare cloak. He fetched some supplies as well, hoping that no one, especially the walked in on him rummaging through the larder and cabinets. Throwing the items into his pack, he threw the cloak around the girl and walked back out to the barn. Saddling the horse, Fenris placed the girl up then climbed on himself. Clicking his tongue and driving his heels into the horse's side, they moved forward into the damp night. The rain tapered off before long, the storm moving further south. Still, Fenris kept riding until dawn, the girl falling asleep in the saddle in front of him.

Finding a place to rest, Fenris dismounted and set the still-sleeping girl next to a tree where the ground was relatively dry. Pulling out a couple of apple, he consumed his breakfast in silence. When the girl began stirring, he sauntered over to her and dropped the apple in her lap.

"Eat," he said. "You'll need your strength."

In the proper light, Fenris noted the girl's features. She was young. Not even ten by Fenris' guess. She had blonde hair and blue eyes, pale skin and a slender face.

"You still have a tongue, why can't you speak?"

Head tilt. Confused look.

"Forget I asked."

Rain continued chomping at the apple.

 _Great,_ Fenris thought, _I'm becoming Hawke._ The Champion of Kirkwall had had a penchant for picking up strays as long as Fenris had known him. Merrill, Anders, Bodahn and his boy, Orana, and even Fenris himself had been practically picked up off the street by the man. Even Bubbles, Hawke's mabari hound, was a stray if he remembered the story correctly. If this kept up, the next thing he knew he would be in charge of looking out for people.

Once breakfast was finished, they set off again, arriving in town at midday. The town was sparsely populated, hardly anyone to be seen for what should have been the busiest time of the day. This was supposed to be a major thoroughfare, yet it looked like it was on the verge of economic collapse. Rain looked around nervously, clinging tightly to Fenris, much to the elf's discomfort.

Riding up to the dusty inn, Fenris put up the horse and led Rain inside. Much like the outside, the inn had seen better days. A few patrons were strewn about in a dining area that would have held a great many more. At the bar, a man with a drooping mustache and thin spectacles leaned against the back counter.

"Good afternoon," the bartender addressed the newcomers cheerily. "What can I get or you?"

"Milk for the child, and anything with alcohol for myself," Fenris replied, sitting Rain down next to him. The bartender gave them a curious look, but then went about his business.

"Not many outsiders these days," he said as he worked. "What brings you this way?"

"Family matters." The Barteder nodded.

"Didn't think a Tevniter would have family across the border."

"My family is...complicated."

"You aren't the only one," the Bartender laughed. Fenris merely nodded.

"I am surprised to find so few here."

"This whole Mage-Templar deal boiling over has dried up business south of us. Safer places to send your goods through if you want to go further." The Bartender sighed. "They'll all come back when things die down."

A triplet of Templars stomped into the inn.

"Afternoon, gents," the bartender greeted, just as polite as before.

"Has there been any word from our Knight-Captain?" the apparent leader asked. The Bartender thought or a moment before replying.

"Captain Hollard hasn't been in for days. He set out with his men on a search." Grabbing a cloth from his waist, he began polishing the tankard in his hand. "You boys look troubled."

"We heard about another squad being attacked in a town not far from here."

Fenris raised an eyebrow and then glanced at the girl. The Templars themselves were not paying either of them much attention as they chatted with the bartender, and just as quickly as they had come, they left. Fenris discretely sighed.

The plan he had been counting on had fallen through. Unless he wanted to make an extended detour either around the border or back the way he had come, he needed to take the girl with him. Or he could explain the situation with the bartender in hopes of finding a place to drop the kid off. In either case, the longer he stayed, the greater the chance of being recognized became. And the trail he had left was short enough and warm enough that it would not be hard to track him.

"Finish your milk, Rain," Fenris said. "We need to get a move on."

* * *

Braden popped the crate open to inspect the shipment. He picked up one of the weapons inside and gave it a heft. Not a perfect weight, but it would at least balance things out. With a sigh, he replaced the weapon and closed the crate back up. Testing would have to wait until later.

"How soon until the next shipment arrives?" he asked.

"Next week, my lord," Dalos replied.

"Good. Everything is on schedule." Turning to the other shadows in the room, locked eyes with the leader. "Distribute these amongst yourselves and commence your operations." Watching his men get to work, Braden turned to leave the warehouse, Dalos and his elf companion falling in behind him. "I think today is going to be quite interesting.


	21. Revolution: Chapter Three

Hannah surveyed the carnage spread out before her. More than a dozen Templars strewn about the yard, corpses long cooled, blood and mud drying on their armor and skin. She recognized many of her contemporaries, men she had ridden with to the Free Marches. Not one of them had survived. Mercifully, none had apparently suffered for long; their killers had made sure of that. What was surprising was the fact that they had come out in this direction to begin with.

Kinght-Captain Hollard had given explicit instructions to regroup in Staffert once they had finished searching the nearby villages, hoping to potentially snag the fugitive before he disappeared into Tevinter. Yet not even Hollard was to be found at their designated rendezvous point. A hasty search of the town had turned up essentially nothing, except that their last direction was back south. Following that lead had brought them to this homestead.

Winston and the others checked the bodies for any signs of magic, but so far, they had found nothing. The men who had checked the barn had found nothing out of the ordinary, at least nothing that would not be expected from being abandoned for days. The animals were restless and hungry. Some of the pens were empty, the former inhabitants missing, having been broken out. Or let out.

Whoever had killed all their compatriots had probably made their escape on one of the horses. At this point, they could have made for Nevarra, Tevinter, or Antiva and there was no possibility for them to catch up.

"Prepare our brothers for a proper funeral," Hannah commanded.

Winston nodded his affirmation and rallied the others to help him. Hannah entered the house, removing her helm. Shifting her short brown hair behind her ears, she looked at the mud that had caked onto the floor.

The entry way was dark and cold. A few of her brothers had been slain in the entry way, much more simply than the others, ambushed by Hannah's reckoning. A trail of dirty footprints lead into the sitting room, where the pale light in the window showed the scene in its full glory.

Two more Templars lay dead, waiting at the threshold to ambush someone. Where their bodies had fallen implied that their killer had not approached from the direction they had expected. The family had been butchered, shoved into a corner with no significant sign of fighting back. And at the center of the room, practically cleaved in two, was Knight-Captain Hollard.

She had had her arguments with the man. He was brutal and paranoid, prone to killing anyone suspected of conspiring with maleficarum or harboring apostates. Still, he was a devoted Templar. He carried out his orders with brutal efficiency and always to the letter. Most of all, he would not abandon a target unless...

Hannah darted from room to room, looking for any sign that would confirm or disprove her hunch. She searched the shelves for diaries, ransacked drawers for evidence. Finding a journal, she began flipping through the pages. To her surprise, she found a familiar schematic. Dropping the journal, she ran out to the workshop. Winston followed her, a look of concern on his face.

"Have you found something?" he asked. "Knight-Captain?"

"Help me with this," she answered.

Throwing a mound of junk off a chest, she and Winston pried the thing open. Throwing more items out, she dug to the bottom, quietly praying she was not on a wild goose chase. Pulling out a small box, she it apart and took out the item it contained: a copper ring the width of her fist with a vial of red affixed in the center, glowing faintly.

"Flames," Hannah muttered.

* * *

Braden sat before the fire, bare feet propped up on a table as he sipped tea. The door behind him swung open.

"They're here," his elf cohort announced.

"Of course they are," Braden replied, jumping to his feet. "You know what to do."

The elf nodded and bowed before gliding off. Braden smiled as he threw on his coat and gathered a welcome party, riding out to meet his visitors. Even from the distance, he recognized Ather's sigil held at the forefront.

"Lord Miletus," Ather called out.

"Lord Evidan," Braden called back. "See, I know your name too."

"Enough with your jokes, Miletus. You know why I am here."

"Enlighten me."

"Your actions are earning you the ire of the other magister. I intend to bring you before them myself. By force, if necessary."

"Color me terrified."

Ather stared daggers at his contemporary. "If you won't surrender, I will strike you down. No one would blame me after what you did to Anicetus. I imagine the council will accept you in a bag."

"Anicetus was a colossal prick. I don't see why you should care."

"Enough!"

A flame erupted from the magister's hand. Before he could attack, a bolt of light flew over Braden's shoulder, striking the other magister in the chest and burning through him. The rest of his men looks startled. The shot had come from a greater distance than any bow. In the silence Xanthus moved forward, and Braden smirked triumphantly.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome," he said shaking his co-conspirator's hand.

Xanthus signaled his men forward.

"Is this the result of your work?" he asked discretely.

"More of the inspiration," Braden answered with a smile. With this, he gave a near imperceptible nod to his cohort standing in the shadows of the castle.

"Interesting. I can hardly wait to see what else you have planned."

* * *

Fenris sighed as he sat on a rickety chair. He and Rain had jumped the border without issue. From the rumors, border security had tightened recently, eyes focused inward as opposed to outward. Some magisters were having a major spat, something that Fenris had no recollection of having ever happened before. Sure, there had been duels, but never anything that whispered full on warfare. Such a thing would distract from the war front with the Qunari.

Still, no one seemed to be paying him any attention. Granted, he did not have the same infamy he had in Kirkwall, and now, the rest of Thedas. Denarius had been killed far outside the Imperium, but apparently no one cared that his killer had returned to Tevinter.

Rain was already sleeping in the room behind him. Admittedly, the girl was partly responsible for the lack of attention on him. A man traveling with a child was far less conspicuous than a man traveling alone. It also helped that she still had not said a word since he found her.

"Thanks for taking us in, Emmen," Fenris said.

"It's no trouble," Emmen replied. Fenris cringed internally. He was putting these people in grave danger just by being here. But if all went well (something Fenris was quite doubtful of since his time working with Hawke), he and Rain could be on and at the next town before anyone caught on that they were there in the first place. However, after days on the road, merely cutting and running was inadvisable for more than simply being discourteous.

"It's strange seeing someone come from the south, especially in these times," the old man said. "What's your story?" Emmen flinched when he met Fenris' gaze. "Sorry. I'm a bit of a curious sort."

"Curiosity has gotten the better of many men, but that hasn't turned everyone off from it," Fenris replied.

"True enough."

"How long do you intend on-"

A ruckus was heard outside, shouts and the sound of horses approaching.

"We've come for a runaway slave and murderer," and authoritative voice announced. "Let him come forward and accept his punishment."

Fenris idly regarded the soldiers, figuring not to overreact. It was not as if the world revolved around him.

"We know you're here, Fenris."

The elf swore under his breath. Rain was already tucked in. He might be able to leave her if they were only looking for him, but there was no guarantee that no one would turn her over. He grabbed sword and swung the door open.

"What are you doing?" Emmen asked.

"Getting a breath of fresh air," Fenris replied.

* * *

The Imperium soldier scanned the windows and rooftops, looking for signs of their quarry.

"You have a minute before we start executing those harboring you," their commander bellowed.

Fenris fell from the roof, slamming into the midst of the soldiers. The horses panicked, sending the formation into chaos. Fenris slashed the nearest rider and began going to work on the rest. The captain tried and failed to rally his men, the screams of their fellows distracting them as Fenris cut through their ranks. Seeing his target, the captain let loose a salvo of lightning bolts, forcing Fenris to bob and duck around cover to avoid being hit. The archers got into position and began firing on the former slave.

Taking cover behind a storefront, Fenris was knocked away when the building exploded around him. Turning around, Fenris had to step back from the blast of fire that consumed the guard that had been coming up behind him. Searching for source of the spell, Fenris spotted Rain hiding behind a corner, holding her hands close to herself.

"I must be dreaming," he murmured.

The captain was stunned for a second, but regained his senses.

"He has a mage working with him!" he barked. "Get her!"

Fenris recovered and intercepted the soldiers. Kicking the leader into the rest, he set on the nearest one who evaded and slashed him across the chest and jumped to the next.

"Get out of here, Rain!" he shouted.

The girl flinched, but stood her ground out of fright.

 _For Maker's sake,_ Fenris thought, blocking another strike to his chest and countering, dropping the soldier to the ground with a split breastplate. Scooping up the girl, he found a hiding place for her with some other frightened citizens.

"Don't let her run off," Fenris growled and then sprinted back to the fray. Creeping along the walls, he took in the battlefield. Some of the soldier had spread out, the rest holding a tight formation around their captain. Throwing a quick glance back the way he had come, he jumped at the first soldier to approach.

The others took note and charged, promptly cut down in a whirlwind of metal.

"Fancy meeting Danarius' pet roaming freely," the captain said. Fenris spun around, facing the captain, absently cutting down another soldier. The captain smiled. "And here I thought you would never come back."

"Perhaps I hadn't gotten my fill of cutting out magister hearts."

The captain scowled, but quickly schooled his features.

"Bold of you, to be sure. But boldness often overlaps with folly."

The captain flung a bolt of lightning at the elf. Fenris jumped out of the way, cringing as the air bristled behind him. With the barrage trailing his path, Fenris jumped through a wall into another building, avoiding the blasts of destruction that turned the place into a whirlwind of splinters and debris. Jumping back out, Fenris charged the captain, cutting down the guards he threw at him, but was stopped short by a volley of arrows.

When the first arrow hit Fenris in the shoulder, he ghosted and dodged, now having to contend with an additional layer of attacks as he tried to close on the captain while assessing the damage. The arrowhead did not pierce the armor, but did bury itself deeply into the metal. Snapping the shaft, Fenris threw a firebomb he had been saving, causing the horse to throw off its rider.

Someone was helping clear the roofs, throwing the archers from the vantage point. Fenris gave a silent thanks to his unknown ally while dodging a fireball. The captain seemed to grow more irritable and panicked at the loss of most of his minions. Fenris went in for the kill.

Letting a pair of spells that would have killed him if given to chance to connect slip through him, the elf blitzed forward, driving his massive greatsword into the man's chest. As the enemy mage gurgled out the last dregs of his life, Fenris pulled the blade away and saw the crowd gathering. None came too close, save for Rain, who wriggled out of her temporary guardian to run back to Fenris.

For a while, no one said a word. Fenris kept his sword out in case someone decided to attack him.

"What have you done?" one shrieked.

"They'll kill us all for this!" one cried.

Fenris scowled at the crowd, dragging the captain's corpse up by the hair.

"This is what you fear. What you have allowed yourselves to be subjugated to are nothing more than mere men; powerful, but not invincible. I know well enough that they can fall, even with their benefit of magic."

"How?"

"I killed my former master, Danarius."

"You _killed_ you master?" someone asked incredulously.

"I didn't do it alone."

The looked of horror turned to desperation.

"Please, protect us."

"Don't leave us."

The cries and pleading overlapped into a din.

"You are going to have to take hold of your own fates," Fenris shouted over the crowd. "I will not do it for you." Picking up Rain, Fenris turned to walk away.

"Why not lead us?" A clear voice called out.

Fenris whirled around to the last voice, the crowd parting between him and them. Staring back at him with grey eyes. Splotches of blood dotted the woman's clothes. But what Fenris noticed most of all was the collar worn by mages enslaved by magisters.

"You've already broken your own chains," the woman added. "Why not help us do the same?"

Grimacing, Fenris tried to think of an out, some way to get out of being placed in such a role. Hawke and Sebastian had both mentioned the possibility at one point or another, but before he could render his answer, the crowd began chanting his name.

"Fenris! Fenris! Fenris!"

 _Blast it, Hawke! This is your fault._


	22. Revolution: Chapter Four

Fenris stalked up towards the local fort behind his guide, both moving at such a pace that the men and women who had volunteered, all ten of them, could keep up. To his gratitude, the guards, while on edge with the commotion from town and the absence of their commander, they had yet to spot the infiltration team creeping up to the walls. Granted, if he had tried this on one of the fortress further north he would have been turned to a pile of ash.

Also in their favor was that no one had been sent into town yet. That would have been bad for the plan as well.

Debiel, the human guiding them to a supposed back way, apparently had snuck into the place before and was to be leading them to a way inside.

At that moment, Fenris wished Hawke was with them. If there was someone who could break into the fort with minimum effort, that person would be Hawke. If he ever bothered to keep his mouth shut long enough. Or he would do the crazy thing and ask the guards to let him in. The logic that worked around that man would have allowed the possibility.

Regrettably, Hawke was probably hiding form Templars elsewhere in Thedas, and it was up to Fenris to improve the chances these people had at surviving the next few days.

"Here we are," Debiel whispered, pulling the hatch open. "Escape tunnel."

"And why do you know about this in the first place?" one of the other infiltrators asked.

Debiel laughed uneasily while scratching the back of his head.

"Never mind," Fenris clipped. "Move on."

The infiltrators slipped into the hatch. Fenris glanced behind them before following after them, closing the entrance behind them. He scooted down the tunnel, dagger in hand. He had not dismissed the notion that, intentionally or not, could be walking into a trap.

Before Fenris reached the end, he could hear the sounds of a melee and hastened his movements. Emerging into the small storage room, he found the rest of the team mobbing the two guards who had the unfortunate timing of running into them.

"Take their weapons," Fenris ordered.

The guards were subdued, and would likely not wake for some time, but Fenris was willing to bet that the ruckus had been heard upstairs. Drawing his greatsword, he crept up the stairs. Satisfied that the coast was clear, he gestured the rest to follow him.

The main grounds were bustling, guards crawling all over the place. Swearing under his breath, Fenris looked for a pattern in the patrols to exploit.

"We need a distraction," Fenris concluded. Looking back at his fellow infiltrators, he saw them shifting nervously. "I'll do it. Debiel, take them to the gate, but keep yourselves out of sight. The moment I've drawn the guards off, set off the signal. I'll rejoin you as soon as I can."

The blond man nodded and scampered off with the rest. Fenris ducked out into the courtyard, staying out of the torchlight. His hair was obscured by a hood, ensuring he would not be noticed by that.

Figuring himself at the near opposite side of the gate, Fenris stepped up to the first enemy and dragged his blade across the man's neck and threw him out into the open. Going to a sprint, he made for the next target.

At the last second, the man twisted around to face the oncoming elf and reached for his sword. Briefly grappling with the guard, Fenris snapped the man's neck and threw him over the side of the wall. He ran the next guard through and kicked him off his sword.

"Where did he come from?" someone shouted.

With sufficient noise made, the guards zeroed in on his location. Archers turned to shoot him as Fenris bobbed between the pillars while tearing through the panicking soldiers. He threw off his cloak at the next man, shoving him into his fellows.

 _Where's the signal?_ Fenris thought. Carving his way through, he made his way to the ramparts. Most elected to run, but the elf gave chase. Ducking between the ramparts as more arrows flew at him, he thinned out the archers on his side when he notice some guards circling around the gatehouse.

Fenris jumped down and dashed across the courtyard, hoping to draw off some enemies to give his allies some breathing room.

Slashing the braces on the door apart, Fenris hefted the crossbar off and kicked the gate open.

With the gate opened, Fenris grabbed a torch and threw the torch high over his head and turned back around to the stream of foes pressing in. Cutting down enemies left and right, Fenris made his way to where the other infiltrators had holed up. Out of the original eleven, only three remained. From them, Debiel was the only one standing, and even he was in a bad way.

"You need to hold on a little while longer," Fenris said, picking up one of the wounded and dragging him behind cover. Debiel did the same with the other man.

"What are we going to do?" Debiel asked.

Turning around, Fenris looked at the soldiers gathering outside.

 _Need to keep them distracted._

Stepping towards the door, Fenris phased through a spattering of arrows. The soldiers edged back. Most were hesitant to make a move in the first place, even with the small numbers they were facing. The silver hair and being covered in blood probably had something to do with that.

A fireball landed right in the middle of the crowd, scattering the guards. His opening made, Fenris ran out, swinging his blade in wild arcs. Another fireball landed at the rear of the formation, shoving the guards together.

That was when the rest of the budding revolution charged in, carrying whatever weapons they could scrounge up. As more poured in, the remaining defenders began to break. A few tried to retreat in good order, but it was not long before the mage walked up to him, bowing.

"The fort is ours," she said.

Fenris decided he had had enough for one day.

* * *

Braden popped his neck, striding down the halls to the Imperial Senate. His elven cohort walked to the left and just behind him, a hood concealing her appearance as usual, and to his right and her left were two guards each. Light security were it not for the guards posted along the hall leading up to the chambers.

The vaulted halls and the occasional macabre were meant to intimidate, but Braden was more amused with the sight. The murals that lined the walk to the main chamber depicted much of Tevinter's history. Interestingly, in all the years of Tevinter's existence, especially in more modern history, no one had bothered to remove them despite the…negative connotations some of them held.

More guards awaited them at the double doors leading to the chambers, decked out in armor and the finest weapons. The few mages present among them wore a distinctive gold trim on their armor to denote status. Regardless of Braden's reputation for being weak, they were certainly not taking any chances.

"Your servant stays here, Lord Miletus," the head of the guard said "Along with your weapons."

"As you wish," Braden said, handing over his staff and sword. "I have nothing that I need to hide."

Once satisfied that the magister was bereft of any weapons or potential weapons, the guards stepped aside. If he tired something with magic, the best of the land would deal with it themselves.

"You may enter."

Braden inclined his head in acknowledgement as the tall double doors swung inward ominously. The other magisters had already taken their seats and Archon Radonis stared at him with an impassive gaze.

"What a great honor for the Magisters of Tevinter to halt everything in order to convene here today on my behalf," Braden said cheerily.

"Silence!" Auraurius barked, his voice echoing through the room. "You do know why you are here, correct? Or do the legends of your instabilities bear truth?"

"Of course," Braden said facetiously. "I understand why I am here."

"Then perhaps you can clear a certain matter for us."

"The rumors of your insurrection have been most unsettling. Do you have anything to state regarding this matter?"

"I do."

Some of the magisters looked to each other, a few more than slightly irritated at his antics.

 _Good,_ Braden thought. The old codgers needed to loosen up some. Radonis' voice brought him back to present.

"Then please, enlighten us."

Braden smiled and took a step forward.

"Your sources are correct," he said. "Though they are behind the flow of current events. They more than rumors. At this very moment, my people are making their moves to enact my masterful plan."

"What?!" Nanterius started.

"Speak clearly," Radonis demanded. "Braden. We have no time for games within these halls."

"I do believe I spoke as plainly as I could have hoped," Braden replied. "If you are incapable of understanding words, perhaps action will have to suffice."

"You speak treason!" Auraurius shouted.

"That will be a matter for history to decide. It is time for the old Tevinter to die and for a new one to rise in its place. There will be no place for you when tomorrow comes."

"Guards, execute him! Kill him now!"

While the Magisters stood up to ready themselves for combat, the guards rushed as all of the light in the room collected in the palm of Braden's right hand as he coiled his arm towards his hip, plunging the room in complete darkness except for a distinct glow where their target stood with his hand closed around the light he held.

Thrusting his palm to the ceiling, Braden opened his hand, releasing his miniature star, blinding and burning everyone else inside the room.

Dust and ashes drifted from the ceiling while a silence hung in the air. Inspecting his slain foes, Braden found one them wheezing, blinking, and squinting.

"Good. At least one of you survived. I need to you relay a message to your more…devoted followers."

The Magister squinted in the direction of Braden's voice, trying to use eyes that had been singed to the point of uselessness.

"I trust that this has demonstrated both my dedication and sincerity of this revolution. I will leave you alive to relay my declaration of war. My men have already struck first, but I would like something official for them to mull over."

The man stared at him blankly, unable to see as Braden hopped down, stepping over corpses as he made his exit.

With a satisfied look on his face, Braden magically forced the doors open into the lobby where all of the guards were on the floor, dead without having readied their weapons to defend themselves. His ally stood at the side of the door like a silent sentinel as the rebellious magister took in the scene.

Prancing and dancing over the bodies that littered the room leading to the main chamber, clapping in rhythm to the movement of his footsteps as he retrieved his weapons from the guard's body.

"Come, my dear." Braden said to his ally with a mock Orlesian accent as he walked towards the entrance of the building.

"And compose." Braden whispered to himself, passing his hand over his face like an elegant fan.

Shoving the double doors open, he was greeted by the sight of the dimming battle. Wounded enemies were gathered with the results of tireless research pointed at their heads: guns.

Much easier to train for and use than bows, and more accurate over longer distances. Powered by magic, even the common man was now a step closer to leveling the playing field with mages. Granted, it was difficult to obtain the necessary materials to craft such weapons, but the results had been well worth the wait. It was also prudent that the users be proficient in other combative arms, as with archers, a skilled swordsman or something else of the like could easily ruin their day if they were not careful.

Standing at the top of the stairs, his soldiers and the prisoners looked up at him, anticipating.

"Welcome, brethren," Braden began. "Today we have started ourselves on a quest of utmost importance. The Archon and his Magisters have been struck down, their followers have descended into chaos. I do not desire to replace their chains with chains of my own." Everyone still alive in the courtyard had their eyes on him, even with the sounds of battle echoing in the distance. Smiling, Braden continued. "The Magisters sought a world that never changes; one where they could always stay at the top and revel in their power while those they deemed weak are oppressed by their tyrannical rule. They sought the past; a bygone era that has been all but swept into the annals of history. And I…I seek the future; a future where men and women of all races, backgrounds, and standings can meet one another on the same footing in society as equals. For too long has this world stagnated. For too long has it chaffed under the rule of arrogant men and women undeserving of such power. You, my brothers and sisters in arms who walk beside me on this road, let the world rejoice as we lead Thedas to a new era and a brighter tomorrow." At end of the speech, he had reached the peak of a crescendo, the soldiers gathered cheering. "You have your assignments. Let us usher this world to a new dawn."

Braden marched away, his elven companion in tow. Today was going to be a good day, even if they drenched the city in blood and burned it to the ground. His only disappointment was that not all the magisters had been present. They would probably try to cause problems, but that was something Braden had planned for.

"So much fun," Braden whispered with glee.


	23. Revolution: Chapter Five

Fenris sat on the ramparts of the fort, overlooking the village of Irum, which he and his new followers had recently taken over. They had gained some new recruits, but it was not enough to nearly replace those who had been lost in the attack in the first place. Still, it was a victory. One that he had doubted could have happened, but had come about anyways.

This was not what he had had in mind when he had returned to Tevinter. He had wanted to hide, but on second thought, sparking a massive uprising against the magister would have been entertaining if it were not for the fact that he was the one leading it.

As it was, if they were to survive, they would have to withstand whatever the magisters threw at them in the coming months. They would have to take and secure as many strongholds as they could, and train the people to hold out. Slave uprisings were one of the few things the magisters would bands together against, and he had spat in their eye as far as they were concerned.

 _But where are the mages?_ Fenris thought.

Between the captain he had faced in the town, a couple of weaker mages that accompanied him, and the six they found in the fort, plus the one who had joined up with the other slaves, he had seen neither hide or hair of another mage.

 _Unless…_

The Mage-Templar conflict could have easily been the cause, anyone with magical talent edging away from the potential reach of overzealous Templars.

Behind him, Rain played with a doll she had found. The girl had stayed in the village during the assault, and as soon as the fighting had stopped, ran back to Fenris' side. It was vexing to say the least, being followed around like that.

Taking an extra

"Rain," Fenris called out. The girl stopped playing to look at him. Grabbing an apple, he held it out to her. "Eat." Thankfully, the girl seemed eager to please him and promptly responded.

Noting an additional presence lingering near them, Fenris stood up. Rain immediately went back to playing, seemingly without a care in the world. Turing away form his acquired companion, Fenris walked up to the mage who had been helping them.

"What do you want?" Fenris asked. Helpful or not, the woman was at least partially responsible for his current position.

The mage watched Rain play for a bit, then met Fenris' eyes.

"The girl is a mage. While she has not caused any harm to herself or others outside of combat, it would be prudent for her to receive some training, if for nothing else, the sake of self-control."

"And I take it you want to do that?"

"If you had any other mages on hand, I am sure yyou could ask them instead."

"…You're rather mouthy for a former slave."

The woman tensed slightly. Fenris growled and rolled his eyes slightly.

"What's your name? I'm sure you'll get tired of me calling you mage."

"Lexes."

"Let me make this clear, Lexes: I don't trust you or any other mages. You will teach the girl what she needs to maintain control and ward off demons. Nothing more unless I give you leave."

"I understand," she said after a pause. "Will that be all?"

* * *

Minrathous was in chaos.

The fighting had spread throughout the city. Entire blocks had been burned down. Landmarks and iconic buildings became fortresses overnight.

The lines between the Traditionalists, those seeking to preserve the old ways of Tevinter, and Industrialists, those pushing for the technological and societal advancement of the nation, had been quickly drawn out, and the Traditionalists were finding themselves short on allies within the ancient capitol.

Most of them were fleeing the city, either for the countryside to the more northern cites or making a push to take Seheron.

All in all, a successful venture in Braden's humble opinion.

He sat at atop the Black Cathedral, currently in possession of the Industrialists. They were stealing anything of value, historical artifacts and precious metals alike. When questioned on the historical artifacts, he had replied simply:

"Those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it."

And that was how he left it. He had thought about adding to that, but he needed them inspired and awed, not creeped out.

 _Save that part for later,_ Braden thought.

In the levels below where Braden was perched, snipers picked off enemy soldiers who strayed too close, along with anyone else they could not readily identify. Days of this routine hinted at only one thing: the enemy was preparing to assault their position.

"Here they come!" someone shouted.

Braden stepped down the stairs, grabbing a rifle, even if he had no intention of using it right away. He had practiced with the others several times, but this was their time to shine. He nodded to the captain, who turned to the snipers.

"On my signal, take out the officers."

Showtime.

As stated, the first shots more or less decapitated the force rallying against them. The surviving officers went next as they tried to gather their forces and consolidate. Next went the sergeants. After that, they took out archers and other targets of opportunity. Even after so many losses and the clear desire to break and run, the enemy pressed forward.

 _Let's see what's driving them._

Stretching out his senses, Braden looked for any spikes of magical activity outside of the tower. Just outside of the perimeter, he could spot small clusters of magical signatures, Tevinter mages who goading their forces into the meat grinder.

 _And what are they going to do? When are you going to make your move? How many minions are you going to throw at us until you realize you still need some meat shields?_

As expected, the enemy soldiers pulled back to lick their wounds, abandoning those too injured to move on their own.

 _That's cold,_ Braden thought. _But not unexpected._

He continued to watch the Traditionalists scurry back into position, made more difficult with snipers picking off random soldiers. It took a few minutes, but the enemy regrouped, then swiftly surged out, this time with the mages mixing into the ranks, projecting shields over their men.

 _And now for the big finale._

"Do it," Braden ordered.

The streets surrounding the Cathedral erupted, bombs that had been placed over the last couple of days going off in a brilliant display. Braden chuckled at the sight. The mages had been expecting the attacks from above without considering the possibility of something coming from underneath.

A series of spells hit the tower, taking out some of the soldiers housed within.

"It looks like there's some survivors down there," Braden thought aloud. He turned the unit's commanding officer. "Have your men prepare to withdraw as soon as we've finished them off. This bait has served its purpose."

"Sir?" the man began, but Braden had already clambered out the window and jumped.

Sliding down the tower, Branden leapt off and glided down, taking some potshots at the scrambling survivors. Landing on top of a disoriented enemy soldier, he fired at those he deemed the most recovered. The enemy mages set their sights on him, even as gunfire rained form above.

Braden slung a fireball offhand, striking the one closest to him, then slid out of the way, still firing at the rest. Weaving around attacks, he closed distance on them, shielding and lobbing weak spells to keep them off balance.

Once close enough, he dropped the rifle and drew his dagger from its sheath. His hands freer than before, he threw up a wall of ice, giving him time to trigger a miniature earthquake on the other side. Grabbing a corpse, he infused it with enough energy to become a bomb and chucked it at the wall.

Jumping through the gap, he pounced on the first target, slashing his throat open. More shots flew from the Cathedral windows, striking most of the rest. A lone survivor charged up one final spell.

With a smirk, Braden cancelled the spell before it left the man's hands. Seeing the panic in his eyes, Braden stepped on the man's chest and dropped his dagger into the man's eye.

* * *

Knight-Captain Hannah shifted in her seat, dressed in commoner clothing typically found in Tevinter. Three of her fellows had dressed similarly, the rest moving off to set up a camp nearby.

Their mission was unsanctioned; no time to send word to anyone. Sure, she could argue that they were simply doing their Maker-given duties, but there was much at stake, and the possibility of sparking a third front in a war that was already straining the Templars, it would not be just her who paid for failure.

Her assembled team looked at her expectantly. She took a deep breath.

"Remember:" she began. "Don't do anything that will draw attention to ourselves. We are in the presence of enemies from here on out. Accomplish our mission, and then withdraw before our identities can be discovered."

Grabbing their gear, some food and easily concealable weapons, they stepped out onto the road to Tevinter.


	24. Revolution: Chapter Six

Braden wove through the encampment outside of Asaerie, most of his traveling companions having been dismissed to rest after their journey. He and his bodyguards had run through a small number of ambushes along the way. Pitiful attempts at the face of things, but their persistence was nonetheless commendable.

"Lord Braden, what a surprise," Xanthus said, approaching with his own entourage.

"I'm not a lord any longer, Xanthus," Braden replied.

"Even so, you're still our acknowledged leader. What brings you out this far? Is Minrathous under our control already?"

"If only. No, but neither is it under the control of the magisters. Our operations in the capitol can carry on without my direct intervention. It's why I selected the men I did."

"True enough. What brings you out here?"

"Doing some house calls, and this was my first stop. How's the siege going?"

"As well as expected. We've cut them off from all resupplies and we've been shooting anything seen flying in or out of the city. Our mortars have scattered them, but they have people watching us as well, alerting them any time we try to advance."

"Quite the conundrum, yes."

"I've sent some scouting patrols out to keep enemy reinforcements off our backs and to disrupt other supply lines. We've gotten a number of luxuries that way."

"Heh. Anything else happening that I should be aware of."

"Not at this time."

"Hmm…let's mix things up. Shall we?"

Xanthus was about to ask for a clarification when the familiarly hooded companion walked out of the shadows. "Ah, yes. Of course. How soon should I have the men ready?"

"The sooner the better. Just be sure to do it all quiet like."

"As you command, Braden."

* * *

Hannah mingled with the crowd of Irum. Mixed in with the atmosphere of apprehension, there was celebration. It had not taken long to find out why.

An elf had arrived little more than a week before Hannah's team's arrival. Drawing the attention of the local garrison, the elf fought back, even killing the mages in charge before leading a team into the local fortress.

Not long after, he rallied any able-bodied volunteers to make for Perivantium. A token force remained, some old men, cripples, women, and no small number of children ferrying supplies and messages across the meager defenses as they moved into the fortress up the hill.

Kellis walked up and sat on the bench next to his superior.

"Found anything?" Hannah asked.

"A description that matches what we know:" Kellis replied. "Silver hair, green eyes, carried a greatsword."

"Anything about a girl accompanying him?"

"Not the one we're looking for. Apparently he has a mage under his employ. An adult."

"From what I heard, I thought he hated mages. I wonder what caused that to change." Sitting up, Hannah looked around. "Have you seen Saldor or Mangiene?"

"Not since we split up."

Hannah sighed and glanced up and down the street, with no sign of the other members of her team.

"As soon as we regroup with the others, we need to leave. I get the feeling we are being watched."

* * *

A downpour buffeted the rebels as they marched towards Perivantium. Had he gone with an earlier plan, they would have been on their Marothius instead, but the road was rougher and a little too close to the established battlements of the Qunari front. They needed to establish a proper base of support and operations before risking the tougher targets.

Fenris had been fielding complaints for a better portion of the trip. It was difficult maintaining rations, and most of the men he was leading had scarcely any training with weapons. Those that did were helping him heard the rest across the countryside to try and conquer a city of more than a hundred thousand.

Perivantium was situated on the northeastern portion of the Silent Plains. Not the most defensible of the major cities of Tevinter, but was the most likely to capitulate when subjected to the necessary stress.

Word of their endeavors had spread, and a small number of minor villages offered their aid, even adding a few more to the "army's" numbers, making for a total of three-hundred and fourteen fighters plus some support elements. In all likelihood, even they would be forced to take up arms. If there was one thing that would rally the magisters in a hurry, it was a slave revolt.

The city rose into view, roads stretching out empty of any visible sign that someone was coming. Though it was possible that there were others traveling more discretely, traveling without torches in the dark; it was what Fenris was having his men do. Within the city itself, bonfires burned brightly into the night, trails of smoke leading into the cloudy skies.

Signaling the company to halt, Fenris turned to address his followers.

"Scouting parties, spread out and see what may be out there waiting for us. Everyone else, set up camp. This may be a while."

Leading his own team along the road, Fenris kept his head below the grass. The plains were hard to keep clear during the rainy seasons, but to allow a potential weakness in your fortresses defenses…

 _What is going on?_

The gates were wide open.

Pressing closer, Fenris saw that there were not even any gate guards, not a soul keeping an eye out on the ways into the city.

"Move forward," he whispered. "Quietly."

The streets were empty of people as they were a mess. Signs of battle were plain, but nothing that would be indicative of combat magic. The buildings were still intact, but windows were knocked out and carts were overturned here and there.

One of Fenris' underlings shrugged at the sight, but pointed to his ear, then down the street. Nodding, Fenris noticed an indistinct clamor drifting up the streets.

Making their way to the sound, they found the way blocked by a toppled building, the fires the felled it having long grown cold. Fenris' team climbed over the ruins and into the more intact building adjacent to it, gaining a vantage point of the scene below.

In the market square, a mob had gathered around a pile of rubbish. Four people were tied to poles standing out from the center. The man at the forefront was dressed in a gaudy, slipshod garment, one he was clearly not used to wearing.

Raising his hand, the crowd before him quieted.

"Here, I bring you more sympathizers to the magisters," the man said, his nasally voice piercing the crisp air. "They try to cling to the orders of their 'masters', defying the new order-"

"Clear out, the lot of you!" someone ordered, cutting off the speech. A detachment of soldiers moved in, shields pointed at the gathering. At the front was a man wearing a worn officer's uniform. His beard was unkempt, unbecoming of someone in charge by Tevinter standards.

The mob leader sneered at the guards' appearance.

"These lapdogs of the magister wish to silence us," he drawled. "Will you let them?"

The mob turned on the guards, who were standing ready for battle. But before the two sides could come to blows. Fenris leaped out of the window, throwing his hood back. He flared off his powers, becoming partially ethereal, but more importantly, drawing all attention to him.

"Enough!" he barked.

Many of the mob panicked at the sight of the glowing elf carrying the massive sword, running off before unspeakable horrors could possibly be inflicted upon them.

"Hold fast," the mob leader shouted, though his confidence wavered. For a while, everyone stood and stared at each other.

"Is this what you've become?" Fenris asked.

"What?" someone in the crowd asked. The guard-captain appraised the newcomer, but silently signaled his men to hold fast.

"Right now, the magisters would be laughing at you all as you squabbling amongst yourselves. You," Fenris pointed at the rabble-rouser. "Get out of my sight. You aren't helping."

Like a whipped dog, the man fled, tripping over his clothes. Fenris climbed up to where the mob leader had been before and looked out to the people he had gathered. While fearful of his appearance, they seemed interested in what he had to say.

"Spread the word: gather before the palace at noon. Tell them that the Ghost-Wolf would speak with them."

As the crowd dispersed, the guards climbed onto the pile.

"Cut them down from there," the captain commanded. He then approached Fenris. "You have my gratitude. I doubt I would have been able to disperse them half as effectively as you did. I am Jericho, commander of what's left of the city guard. Would you mind telling me what you are doing here?"

"Good question," Fenris replied.

* * *

The night air was crisp and cool, the wind blowing in from the north, which is why most of those not patrolling the walls were huddling around a small fire.

"Nice night out for a good pipe."

Both guards wheeled around to face the silhouette above them. His Cossack billowed in the wind, black as the sky.

"Who are you?" they demanded.

Though he was shadowed, it was clear that he was smiling. You could _hear_ his smile.

"I am a nightmare," Braden answered. A flight of arrows struck those at the back, and then Braden fell on them, dagger and staff in hand.

* * *

Fenris followed Jericho through the palace grounds, which had seen better days. Furniture was strewn about the grounds, then shoved into barricades. More guards were milling about, keeping an eye or ear for trouble. They rose to greet their commander and the strange elf he was leading past them.

"It's a good thing the riots have died down for the night," Jericho said. "You didn't have as many people to intimidate."

"Tell me what happened."

"That's something of a story," Jericho said, taking a seat. "When the governor left, we were put on guard. Not a clue why, but it was clear that something big was happening outside the walls. I was not even a captain then." Jericho sighed. "Then a week later, a message comes in, and overnight, the rest of the city's ruling body leaves with all their retainers, guards, slaves, and whatever arms and supplies they could carry out, then anyone else of importance followed suit. Once it was clear there was no one really watching, pandemonium set in. Slowly at first, but then it all began to fall apart faster than you could blink. I think it just took a while to sink in, to realize that the magisters weren't coming back anytime soon. I have no idea what that message said, but something spooked the lords and ladies."

"Do you think the Qunari might have made a move?" Fenris asked.

"Like I said, I have no idea. Word has been scarce as of late."

"What else could it be? What could be out there that would convince the magisters to abandon their holdings so quickly?"

"I must admit, you have an uncanny timing."

"How so?" Fenris asked.

"I think the worst of the riots have died down. Now it's a matter of waiting to see who organizes the disparate factions under their rule. If you're here to take over, you might not face much in the way of active resistance. If you taking over means this mess dying down, you have my support."

"Even if that means possibly being dragged into a war?"

"If it means the people are spending more time looking out for fighting then inside the city for it, I welcome it."

"I see. If that is the case, if you have any experienced men, I would like to begin training my own army."

"I imagine you can house your people somewhere around here. Just make sure you keep them in line. You think you can do it? Fill the gap the magisters left, I mean?"

Taking a breath, Fenris looked out at the city.

"We'll see."

When the next day rolled around, Fenris could see people trickling in from every which direction. By afternoon, the streets were filled with throngs, with more leaning and hanging out of windows to catch a glimpse of the newcomer.

 _All of this in such a short time?_ Fenris thought. _Let's get this over with._

Stepping out into view, the murmuring tapered off.

"People of Perivantium, I am Fenris, the Ghost-Wolf. The magisters have abandoned you. Instead of taking the city for yourselves, you have turned it to ruin. While you have been tearing the city apart, the magisters have been laughing amongst themselves. Are you going to keep giving them the satisfaction, that you are simply a mindless rabble that will burn out in time so they can step back in when the dust settles? I say no! I say we take this opportunity. It's time for you to build something from what they discarded. The question that remains is who will stand with me? Who will aid me in breaking the shackles?"

 **A/N: Holy crap! I did not expect this chapter to take so much effort to hammer out. On the plus side, I'm in a position to take some other previously written snippets for the next chapter, so the wait should be short. Time will tell how much shorter.**


	25. Revolution Chapter Seven

21st of Matrinalis, 9:38 Dragon

It had been minutes since he had returned to Perivantium and Fenris had already called for a meeting. Jericho had already gathered the rest of the local advisors. The moment he stepped through the door, all eyes were on him.

All in all, Fenris was uncomfortable with the amount of power vested to him.

Settling at the end of the table, he nodded to Jericho.

"What news do you have for me?" he inquired.

Severus, the man in charge of agriculture, was the first to speak up.

"Lightly put, the harvest was rather measly. While we might be able to hold out for a mild winter, we are going to be pinched."

Fenris hummed. "We're lucky to have gotten anything at all, given how late we started."

"The road into Antiva is still unobstructed. We've been blessed with an abundance of relatively fair weather."

"Have we had any more issues with raiders?"

"Nothing we haven't been able to handle so far," Oswald replied. One of the soldiers under Jericho's command, Oswald had been in charge of keeping the fledgling enterprise together. So far, he had lived up to Jericho's recommendation.

"Keep me apprised," Fenris said.

"It's strange," said Jericho, "We haven't seen hide or hair of the magisters since they left. No messengers, no attempts at sabotage."

"They have been remarkably quiet."

Fenris looked at the map of Tevinter laid out over the table. Tokens marked the cities that his people had established contact with. The western side of the country was practically devoid of them."

"How has our expansion been going?" he asked. "Any problems?"

"The story is the same most places we visit. Magisters gone, people left to their own devices. A few of them were like Perivantium. Others are carrying on like Irum, mostly the smaller cities." Fenris contemplated the map's representation of the city in question. "Our reputation appears to be growing. More cities are joining our cause, even of their own volition, before our messengers ever arrive. Neromenian and Vyrantium are now allied with us, a number of minor cities in between have thrown their lot in with ours…"

"But..."

"Marothius is proving to be a tough nut to crack. Last word I heard from our people is that there is some provisional leadership that is slowing the proceedings."

"It has been months since we laid siege,"

"Yes, and despite our efforts, they still hold the city."

Sighing, Fenris ran his hand through his hair. "Keep pressing."

"Have you heard the latest news from the west?" Oswald asked.

"We've actually heard something?" Jericho mused.

"Mostly hearsay, but enough of a trend that I think it explains why we've encountered so little resistance."

"Let's hear it."

"Apparently, one of the magisters incited his own rebellion, nearly the same time as our own. He killed the archon and many of the other magisters, burned them all to a crisp they say. Anyways, he and his followers have been pushing to the west. The Industrialists are taking it by storm."

"The Industrialists?"

"That's what they're calling themselves. The magisters and their allies are being referred to as the Traditionalists."

Eyes settling the west side of the map, Fenris squinted. "We're stretched thin enough as it is. Does he have eyes set towards the east yet?"

"Could hardly tell. I doubt we'll have much forewarning or chance of counter-attack if he does."

"Explain."

"Their leader supposedly granted his followers power to fight mages on equal footing, new weapons that are like the Qunari cannons, but small enough to be wielded by any able bodied person. They gutted Minrathous in a week and despite their initially small numbers, they have taken nearly every major city they have encountered. One city was taken practically overnight."

"Flames," Severus gasped.

"How do we stop that?" someone else whispered.

"You're certain their leader was a magister?" Fenris asked. "What is his name?"

"Braden Miletus," Oswald answered. "He has some other magisters working with him, but I don't know their names."

There was murmuring in the room.

"Let us not get ahead of ourselves," Fenris said, raising a hand. "The harvest season is almost over. I say we finish consolidating our holdings right now. We keep an eye to our borders, but work at living through the winter. How are our present defenses?

"I can at least trust that they can hold out against bandits and raiders," Jericho replied. "but against a well-organized military, I imagine we'll have some difficulty until they've been bloodied some. And speaking of organized militaries, our reports indicate that the Qunari are launching another offensive against the northern shores, but the numbers are somewhat lacking."

"Meaning?" Serverus asked.

"Tevinter has been at war with the Qunari since they first landed on our shores," Fenris answered. "Everyone has been expecting a repeat of their first invasion, but for them to send so few for an attack…"

"It could be that the Traditionalists shifted their focus to Seheron. That's good to know."

"If there's nothing else, this meeting is adjourned."

Stepping back, Fenris watched the others leave the room.

Before the meeting, he had managed to catch a glimpse of Rain in the middle of her tutoring sessions. Rain had made excellent progress with her lessons with Lexus.

Fenris found himself at a loss of what to think. Dealing with mages was something he never envisioned himself doing when he left Danarius. Hawke had done much to change that.

Maker forbid he actually grow attached to a mage.

Standing up straight, he rolled his shoulders back. He did not trust Lexes, regardless of her willingness to join him, there was no telling what she could be up to.

* * *

Hannah wove through the streets of Perivantium with a bundle of goods slung over her back. Armed patrols walked around, equipped with a hodgepodge of arms and armor recovered or recently made. They eyed her the same as they did everyone else, not sparing her an extra glance.

She sighed for the nth time that day.

What had begun as traces of resistance had mutated to a full-blown uprising, and the Templar infiltrators had been caught in the middle of it. A mission that should have taken a few weeks at most had been dragged into four months with no end in sight, chasing the rebel leader across the land. Anytime they had gotten close to Fenris, he had moved on to another city.

Perivantium had become the center of his domain. Waiting for him had been for the best. This was the closest they had gotten, and Hannah did not want to waste the opportunity.

Once she was certain no one was watching, she stepped out of the street and into an alleyway. Casting one last look over her shoulder, she slipped into the hideout where she found Kellis and Saldor tying a rambling man to a chair.

"He is a ghost," the prisonor said. "A terror come to slay the unfaithful."

"Who is this?" Hannah asked.

"Some crackpot we found," Saldor replied. "Blathering about our target. Figured you would want to talk to him."

"Does he have any information that would help us?"

"You seek the ghost?" the man asked. Hannah looked at him pointedly. The Ghost-Wolf was the name Fenris had been going by since his rise in the city.

"How do you know him?"

"He swept in, a blaze of blue light. He was among us, but not."

"What can you tell us about Fenris?"

"He leads the people against the magisters, against the ox-men."

"Get rid of him. I doubt he knows anything useful."

"Very well," Saldor replied.

"And after we went through all that trouble getting him," Kellis complained. Hannah ignored the comment as she tossed the bundle to him. "Do you think anyone is still waiting for us?" he asked.

"I can answer that," Mangiene said slipping into the hideout, brushing past Saldor and their former guest.

"I see you returned to us safely," Hannah said. "You say you have word."

"We've been cut loose," she answered. "None of the others are waiting at our rendezvous."

Kellis took inhaled sharply.

"We can still keep going," Hannah replied.

"Why? He's surrounded by an army, and he hasn't made any moves that would indicate his attentions moving outside of Tevinter. And if we're all being perfectly honest, I think we should be more concerned about this Braden fellow."

"The renegade magister?" Kellis asked, to which Mangiene nodded.

"And there is still the matter of the war we should be fighting."

Hannah rubbed her fingers along her temples. It had been a long time since she had been at such a loss. Standing up, she addressed her fellows.

"We came here to hunt down one of the ones responsible for the war. There is no telling what he will do once he's built himself a nation. For all we know, the rest are building Hawke an army."

"I need some air to think while I plan our next course of action."

Hannah climbed the battered staircase to the top floor of the building they had made their temporary home. No one else lived there, as most of the structure had been burned. While it offered a level of security and anonymity, it made any sound suspicious. For instance, the sound of someone suddenly talking to her.

"Well, well, what have we here?"

Standing stock-straight, Hannah turned to look at the figure addressing her.

She had an odd presence around her, tightly woven, but pulsing outward like a heartbeat. Gold eyes stared out from under the hood of her cloak, a blandly colored, ratty looking thing that reminded Hannah of the stories involving old hags, but from what she could tell, the woman addressing her was neither old nor a hag. It was then that Hannah recognized the feeling she had.

"You're the one who has been following us," Hannah concluded.

The woman quietly laughed. "Smart girl," the woman said. "Perhaps there is hope for you."

"What do you want?" Hannah asked.

"What indeed."

Resting her hand on her dagger, Hannah fixed her guest with a glare. "I have no time for games."

"Yes, always so dedicated to work. But if you wish to cut the chase short, the man you seek is not your true enemy. I would advise making peace with him."

"What do you mean? Explain yourself!"

"I've already conveyed my message, and I typically refrain from doing any more than leaving mildly cryptic warnings. And while normally I would enjoy talking your ear off if given half the opportunity, time is short."

Without another word, she turned and walked away, the sway of her hips accented by the sound of shifting armor.

"Hannah?"

Whipping around, Hannah resisted the urge to reach for her sword. Saldor looked at her worriedly. When she looked back, the woman was gone.

"How…?" Hannah breathed.

"What is it?" Saldor asked.

"Did you see someone talking to me?"

"No. Why?"

Reeling in her thoughts, she gathered herself up and walked past the other Templar.

"It was nothing," Hannah answered.

* * *

General Corinthus watched the battle lines from afar. Craters speckles the beaches of the northern point of Tevinter. In the distance, flashes of light lit up the clouds of fog that clung the coastline, even in the height of daylight, the signs of cannon fire that heralded another barrage that struck the battlements. Soldiers zipped around him, moving ammunition to the batteries overlooking the coastline as they responded in kind. The battle-mages and mortars alike took to hit-and-run tactics, never staying in one place long enough for the enemy to zero in on them.

"What's the situation, general?" Braden asked. The old general nearly fell backwards at the man's sudden appearance.

 _How does he do that?_ He wondered, but quickly remembered himself. "Sir, the ox-men moved in overnight, wiping out the Traditionalist garrison before dawn. While they were settling in, I moved our troops in to catch them off balance with mixed success. They've taken to their ships, bombarding the fortress while moving more of their forces up the coast. We've shored up our defenses along the main breaches, but we're taking a pounding from their guns."

Idly wandering to the overlook, he squinted and frowned slightly. "You've erected barriers, yes?"

"Of course, sir. However, repeated and extended incursions have forced us to minimize exposing them for long periods of time, not to mention that we've suffered our share of carnage from their attacks."

Braden stared out over the battlements and the waters beyond. "Hm…very well." Braden spun on his toes and stalked off. "Another battalion will be here shortly

"Are you not going to partake in the battle?"

Braden slowed himself, looking over his shoulder with an enigmatic smirk.

"There are times when I need to intervene, and times when others have to show their own strengths and win their spurs." Resuming his course, he continued out. "This is a time to show that the New Tevinter, not Braden Miletus, is a foe worthy of being feared."

Once out of sight, the former magister quietly chuckled to himself.

 **A/N: I know I haven't made much progress on this story lately, this is still the primary story.**

 **Also, I do believe this story is longer than** _ **Embers,**_ **even without the notes** **.**


	26. Revolution: Chapter Eight

Braden sat in his acquired office, feet on the table as he sat in front of the fire. The war was going well…for him and his at least. For everyone else, it was rather bittersweet or a complete downer.

The Traditionalists apparently fled the mainland at the cost of much of their old territory, but finally taking most of Seheron. The land was hotly contested, but it was mostly the locals that were making a ruckus. Meanwhile, the Qunari were making a play for territory they thought abandoned. While his own forces were giving the ox-men a beating, along the eastern shores, it was some of the remaining Traditionalists forces holding out.

Also on the eastern side was the new rebel leader, eroding the backbone of the Traditionalist strongholds that still remained, taking up their resources and otherwise making life difficult for the Traditionalists. Braden always welcomed someone taking the hits while his own forces tightened their grip around the cities they had already taken.

That was not to say that his forces were running freely amok across the western Tevinter countryside. Between the Traditionalist forces still based in the mainland and the assaults from the Qunari, it was shaping into something of a slogfest.

Smiling, Braden slouched into his seat, propping his feet on the desk.

The door handle began creaking, then was slammed open. A pair of arrows flew at Braden's face, but missed by virtue of the target leaning the chair backwards, falling to the floor and rolling to a crouch.

Braden rolled his eyes and sighed as he stood up. "You know, some would find it rude intruding like this. But, I guess, turnabout _is_ fair play in the end." He squared off against the intruders and charged a bolt of lightning, then his he felt a wave wash over his magic, snuffing the spell. "Ah, Templars. Imperial Templars at that. I was beginning to wonder where you had all gotten off to."

Snatching his dagger from the table, he faced down his assassins.

"Six of you, huh? Pleased to think that the surviving magisters think so highly of me. I assume there are others waiting outside, yes?"

No answer.

"Silent treatment. Fine, I get it. Whenever you're ready."

Two of them stepped forward, blades in hand. Braden blocked and parried, stepping back as the assassin's pressed their attack. The others maneuvered around the room, pulling out bows.

Grabbing a paper weight off of the table, Braden chucked it at the furthest archer, forcing the man to duck as his target vaulted over the desk and shoved it at his pursuers with his foot. The assassins were skilled enough to evade, but it gave Braden enough space to engage them individually, slashing a throat open and literally disarming the other.

Braden hummed approvingly. "Smart of you, not coming at me all at once. However…"

Throwing his dagger, it drove into his target's chest, knocking him against the wall. The other archer barely flinched as his partner's demise, and the other assassins closed in.

They tried to push him into a corner or to a window, but he led them in circles in the center of the room until he could make a go at the other archer, snapping the man's neck and hurling him at his fellows.

"Surely you can do better," Braden taunted. Underneath their helmets, he could hear them sneer.

Snatching a spear hanging from the wall, he jumped up onto his desk, twirling the weapon in his hands and catching the closest man along the neck and smashing his next friend in the face with the pommel.

The third man grabbed the weapon and pulled, but was surprised when his opponent flowed with it, kicking him in the face on the way down. The momentary lapse of vigilance found him strangling and dangling with the spear holding him against his target's back as he kick-boxed the other two

With a sudden jerk, Braden torqued his victim's head to an unnatural angle, breaking the spear in the process, and drove the pieces into the other two, striking their necks where their armor did not cover as well.

The doors behind him were kicked open, ushering in the remaining assassins, to which Braden could only sigh in exasperation.

A click at his sleeves, Braden whirled around, hands raised, and tugged on the released at his sleeves, lighting up the room with a series of pops. Gravity did the rest and sent their corpses crashing to the floor.

While maintaining an air of stoicism, Fenris clenched his jaw tightly as he surveyed the scene of carnage before him.

What should have been a potential allied village was reduced to a jumbled mess of rubble with mangled corpses stuffed inside.

Fenris' nose wrinkled; the place reeked of magic. Not the presence, but the concentrations, and the still smoldering buildings and the lack of decaying bodies indicated a recent tragedy.

"Spread out and search for survivors," he ordered.

The survivors, few as they were, were limited to those who were fortunate to have been away at the time of the catastrophe, were picking through the ruins in vain hope that someone had escaped the carnage.

"Thank you."

Fenris nodded his head. Gratitude from others was still something he was uneasy about, especially from Tevinter. If it weren't for those he had been helping, he would have taken off a long time ago.

Shaking his head, he continued to make his way through the wreckage, finding Lexes staring blankly at the destruction, unheeding of her boss' approach. He was practically standing behind her when he made his presence known.

"I assume you recognize what transpired." It was less a question and more statement.

She snapped out of whatever trance she had fallen into, reaching to her collar, idly stroking metal surface.

"It brought up some…bitter memories." Shaking her head, she turned towards Fenris. "But yes, I know the signs. Abomination. Not a strong one, but more than capable of-" she waved her hand over the ruins. "-This."

Working alongside Hawke had given Fenris more encounters with abominations than he would ever care to for a hundred lifetimes. Seeing the handiwork of one still soured the pit of his stomach.

"Boss, we found something!"

The remains of the abomination was found buried…along with the man who had achieved a nominal victory of bringing his foe down before succumbing to the numerous injuries sustained.

"Any clue as to who it was?"

"He's a Templar," Debiel declared.

That caught Fenris' attention. "What would a Val Royeaux Templar be doing here?"

"How can you tell?"

"An Imperial Templar would have no reason to attempt traveling disguised within their own country."

"What if they're Imperial Templars and they're just trying to sneak in? Information gathering?"

"It could be. But that brings into question why one of their own would intervene in a hostile village."

"That would be because of me."

Fenris resisted the urge to reach for his sword, but turned to face the voice's source, a fair-haired woman dressed as a commoner. She walked past him with a martial sort of grace, kneeling over the fallen Templar, she closed his eyes and whispered a soft prayer.

"Saldor was a good man," she said after she finished. "I suppose you would be Fenris, yes?"

"I am," he answered gruffly. "I'm more curious as to who you are, and what business a Templar has in Tevinter."

"I don't suppose it would do me any good to lie. My name is Hannah. I was originally sent to detain you for your role in the ignition of hostilities between the Templar Order and the Circle of Magi. But then you disappeared into Tevinter, and then…" She waved her hand at the rest of the rebels in the area.

Fenris snorted. "You're looking for the wrong man. And I haven't seen Hawke in nearly a year. And Anders disappeared before that."

Hannah glowered slightly. "Indeed. As I was saying, my original intention was to track you down on behalf of the Templar Order. A number of recent events have rendered that mission moot, by my own estimation and that of my superiors."

"Is that so?"

Rain had hidden herself behind Lexes, nervously looking up at the Templar. When Hannah approached, the collared mage repositioned herself as the Templar kneeled to eye-level with the young girl, smoothing her features as best as she could. Rain still shrank behind the other mage, who raised her arm to shield her.

"You have nothing to fear from me, child," she said softly.

The girl was not entirely placated, but some of the tension bled from her shoulders and she ventured a look before hastily retreating once more.

"I doubt you'll find her very cooperative, after what your fellows did to her family.

Hannah exhaled softly and rose to height again, locking stares with Fenris.

"If you would allow it, I would have an audience with you." Hannah glanced over her shoulder, staring beyond her immediate surroundings. "Preferably in more private setting."

Dusk fell gently on the old warehouse district of Vol Dolma. Braden swaggered through the complex, a bounce in his step, his assistant trailing behind him. After the initial uprising, the leader of the Industrialists had ordered the research division to relocate there. Heavily renovated, the structure was chosen for its relative isolation from the rest of the populace, a measure for security and safety alike.

What brought Braden today was that he had received a missive from the man in charge.

Normally, such minute happenings were left to those whose time was specifically devoted to the task. However, the senior researcher had come across something that exceeded his knowledge base and that of his colleagues and confederates.

"What do you think of it, dearie?"

The elf gave him a scrutinous look, only for Braden to smile wider. "Of what?"

"The 'special' package, of course. Certainly you find something about this fascinating."

"I'm not here to investigate every idle curiosity that finds its way into Tevinter," she answered clippedly.

"Bah. You're being stiffer than usual."

"And you more energetic."

"Maybe it's something in the air. It has been some time since we've done anything noteworthy together."

She gave him a reproachful look, but said nothing else as they arrived at their destination, which was positively abuzz with activity. The guards stood a bit straighter, holding weapons a bit more tightly than before and saluted him in passing.

"Good evening, sir," the senior ranked guard hailed.

"Same to you," Braden answered cheerily.

"Here to see the old man?"

"Among other things, but yes."

"After you, then."

The doors swung open, allowing the party inside. Before long, they came across an older man huddled with younger counterparts. Only vaguely aware of what was happening around them. The many they were looking for did not notice their approach until his name was called and one younger pupils tapped him on the shoulder.

The aged scientist looked up, eyes twinkling in the low lights. "Master Braden. This is a surprise."

"Are you really surprised that I am me?" Braden chuckled lightly.

The old man smiled gracefully, well-accustomed to his patron's eccentricities. "I'm surprised you troubled yourself for a visit so soon, especially with all that normally occupies your time."

"It is no trouble. What do you have for me, Byron? I trust your prime project hasn't suffered from the latest excitement."

"A difficult venture, synthesizing lyrium. One that has proven to be a difficult challenge. I've consulted a number of colleagues still present on these shores, but most have little to offer. That being said, we have made some breakthroughs. Last week, we came up with a dust variant, though it burns rather quickly. Much too quickly. Curiously, the smoke left behind was akin to that of Qunari cannons."

"Intriguing. I trust you've retained the notes from that experiment."

"Indeed we did, sir. Recreated it, too, albeit under more controlled circumstances."

"Fantastic news! Now, I believe you said you had found something of note…what seems to be the matter?"

"I…I'm not entirely sure how to explain it. It would be best to show you."

"I would have asked to see it, anyway."

Snapping his fingers, Byron turned to one of the runners. "Retrieve the package and deliver it to the back room."

Led to the rear of the facility, they were met by some of his men carrying a heavy-looking chest with thick, sturdy walls. Setting it down, they bowed out, leaving the trio alone with the parcel.

"A chest," Braden mused. "I take it you want to show me what is inside."

"The boys found this in a warehouse after the men guarding it attacked them. Rather fanatically, I hear. As a precaution, I had them put it in this chest and placed it in isolated storage and under guard. We briefly inspected the contents, but it produced an… ominous aura that appeared to be influencing the men guarding it. No one has been allowed near it since."

The lock released loudly and suddenly, popping the chest's lid open, coughing up a small puff of dust. Sitting at the bottom of the container was a stone, cylindrical in shape, barely longer than the width of his hand and as wide as his thumb twice over, red in color and faintly illuminating the inside. As weak as the light it gave off, it pulsed angrily under the increased scrutiny.

Like a cloud passing over the sun, Braden's eyes darkened, ominously reflecting the dim, red glow of the material. The man muttered something guttural under his breath as he approached.

Byron glanced at Braden. "Beg your pardon, sir?"

"Nothing," Braden replied, reaching out to the chest.

"Sir, if this is what I understand it to be, no one should be handling this. Especially-"

Striking his hand out, Braden plucked the red material from the chest. The elderly research's breath hitched as he stared at his superior. Braden hummed to himself idly, twirling the object between his fingers, tossing it into the air before snatching at the apex of its arc and placing it near his ear.

"It's singing," he said eventually. "I can't hear, but its song is crude, sour. A cacophony of malignance." Ignoring the stares of confusion, he lowered the object from his head and held it out in front of him. "You know what lyrium is, yes?"

"Is this a trick question, sir?"

"Hardly." Putting the item up to his nose, he gave it a quick sniff. "Some older cultures believed there to be massive creatures of stone that move through the depths of the world, and this is their blood. Others think it's a substance directly from the Fade, a gift the maker. In reality, it's a bit of both, but at the same neither. This…" His words trailed off into a rough and guttural, but arguably poetic sounding phrase. Or a prayer.

"I don't believe I'm familiar with that phrase, sir. Or the language, for that matter."

Braden let his arm fall to his side. "You're right. This is corrupted lyrium." He took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. "Thank you, Byron. You may leave."

Recognizing the dismissal, he withdrew from the room, closing the door softly behind him. Alone in the room, save for his assistant, who looked on passively as Braden held the piece up to the low lights, still humming a melody that followed no reason except its own.

"It appears we have less time than anticipated," Braden finally said, holding the red lyrium up to the light.

A slight squeeze from the man's fingers, the object began to implode, consuming itself in a blaze of light, leaving no trace of its existence.

Much in the same manner the cloud had fallen over the room, it hastily dissipated. Braden stared off into the distance before his mouth twisted into a beatific smirk once more.

"Shall we go?" he chirped.

Emerging from the room, they were met by Byron, who eagerly anticipated his superior's words.

As if anticipating his thought, Braden answered. "Nothing anymore."

A pregnant paused lingered, then Byron nodded knowingly. "Of course, sir."


End file.
